


Bigfoot Seeking Bigfoot

by ThePlace



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: AU Sylph Stern, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackmail, Canon with a twist, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Secrets, Sternclay Big Bang, Trans Agent Stern, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-20 18:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 71,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePlace/pseuds/ThePlace
Summary: It’s incredible really, what you can make people believe with a fake FBI badge and a nice suit. And while Joseph Stern would rather not run the risky lie of pretending to be an FBI agent, he certainly has experience in hiding the truth.Born on Earth after his parents were banished from Sylvain, a planet he knows nothing about, Stern has lived a life full of deception as every precaution was taken to ensure no one found out that he was a sylph.However, as the crystal necklace keeping him alive starts to fade, he must find the sylph from Ned Chicane’s video hiding out somewhere in Kepler before time runs out for him.And as long as he doesn’t get distracted by a certain kind chef with a similar secret or cryptid hunters desperate for a lead, everything should turn out just the way Stern plans.
Relationships: Barclay/Agent Stern (The Adventure Zone)
Comments: 141
Kudos: 272





	1. Printed Ink and Put Upon Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is- My Sternclay Big Bang entry! I had so much fun writing this and I've really enjoyed working with such amazing people! The chapters while switch back and forth between Stern and Barclay's pov and this is all set during canon events, just with little things changed around (besides Stern being a sylph that's a big change) 
> 
> Also check out the amazing art that goes along with the fic by talln.t on instagram!: https://www.instagram.com/p/B8JsydPHAPP/
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

Growing up, there were three principles which guided every single action of Joseph Stern’s life.

One: He is a human being. Do nothing to make anyone think otherwise.

Two: Cryptids do not exist. Any comment to the contrary must be countered and mocked.

Three: Never let anybody close enough to realise that one and two are _lies_.

And as he strides into the Cryptonomica, suit freshly pressed and badge triple-checked for any smudging of the newly printed ink, Stern has to hope that breaking principle two won’t cause any problems.

After all, it is his last and only hope.

The inside of the little road-side attraction is surprisingly busy, with about two dozen people crowding around display cases showing off purported Jackalopes, the famed photos of the Loch Ness Monster, and a myriad of other lesser known Cryptids. On any other day, Stern would be among them, clambering for any shred of evidence that would lead him to his goal. But not today. 

No.

Today there is only one display that Stern cares about.

At the other side of the room, surrounded by a flock of people, most with backpacks and camera equipment suggesting more than a passing interest, is a display on Bigfoot. Stern is careful to put his ‘pardons’ and ‘thank yous’ in the politest tones possible as he makes his way through the crowd. Rudeness brings attention and attention brings death as his parents always taught him. Finally though, he reaches the display and takes a moment to simply stare at the video in front of him.

Taking up the majority of the frame is what most people would call a Bigfoot. Standing about eight feet tall, the Sasquatch is covered in a reddish-brown fur which does little to hide the rippling muscles beneath. He still feels odd referring to them as a Bigfoot when he knows full well that they’re a sylph too, but he’s grown so used to the term that he can’t imagine not using it. The only other thing in frame is what might be a bobcat? He really doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter though, it could be Jimmy Buffett the Bigfoot was fighting for all he cared. What mattered was Bigfoot. The video’s only about thirty-seconds long, looping again and again for any who pass by. But seeing as the video Stern’s been watching with a devotion close to obsession since it was posted three days ago is only twelve seconds long, the additional eighteen seconds feels like a lifetime.

It’s as he’s watching it, one hand held in the other behind his back to stop himself from reaching out and touching the screen, does he hear someone clear their throat and loudly announce to the shop, “Good afternoon esteemed patrons! Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Ned ‘Paranormal’ Chicane and I most humbly welcome you to the Cryptonomica: my museum dedicated to exploring the supernatural wonders of the world! If you have any questions, please let me or my associate Kirby know and don’t forget-” He pauses, eyes the room and arches a brow. “The paranormal _is_ out there, and the giftshop is right over here.”

This earns a few chuckles around the room and not an insignificant number of people start making their way over to where all matter of cryptid merchandise is being sold. However, Stern is on a mission. So again, with no small amount of pleasantries, he makes his way through the crowd and over to where Mr. Chicane is looking out across his shop.

“Pardon me, Mr. Chicane?”

“Yes, hello! How can I help you sir?”

Stern clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, trying to keep his voice steady and even. “I just had a few questions concerning your Bigfoot footage. You are the one who filmed the encounter, correct?”

“Indeed I was.” He takes a moment to glance between Stern and the group of professional Bigfoot hunters in the corner. “Now if you don’t mind my asking, what interests you in my video? I can’t imagine you’re with that lot, are you?

This is it. If this doesn’t go right, it's over. His last chance gone. Breathe. Just breathe. He didn’t practice this for nothing. “Actually, I am Special Agent Stern, FBI.” With a pretend ease, he flips open his FBI badge. He’s still rather pleased on how authentic he got it to look. “I am a member of the Unexplained Phenomenon division, so any information regarding the video or the encounter itself would be extremely appreciated in regards to my investigation, Mr. Chicane.”

He realises he’s still holding up the badge by the time he finishes speaking and so quickly lowers it. Was that suspicious? What if he asks to inspect it closely? What if there’s a watermark he missed? What if Ned calls the police? Then everyone will find out and he’ll be as good as dead.

But if Ned finds this suspicious, he doesn’t say. Instead he levels Stern a wide smile and laces his fingers together on top of his cane. “Ah, well then Agent Stern, of course I’ll assist in any way I can! As an upstanding and vital pillar of this community-” From a few feet down the counter his assistant, Kirby if Stern caught the name right, snickers. “-I would never dream of impeding a federal investigation! However, as you can see, I’m rather busy at the moment.”

“Oh that’s no problem at all, Mr. Chicane. I can come by tomorrow if that would work better for your schedule?”

“I can’t promise I’ll be any less busy then, but please, by all means you can certainly try.” He scratches at his beard, once again sizing Stern up from the looks of it. “So do you expect to be in Kepler long, Agent?”

Well if things don’t pan out, no longer than six months. After that . . . Well he doesn’t want to think about that. So instead, he puts on a smile. “I believe I’ll remain in Kepler for the duration of my investigation. However long that will take, I cannot say. Speaking of which, you don’t happen to know of any hotels in the area, do you? I just arrived in town, you see.”

“Hmmm, hotels . . . Hotels . . . .” He spends a good fifteen seconds pondering this before finally clapping his hands together and saying, “Nope! None spring to mind. I’ve never really had any need for a hotel in the area so-”

“What about that place up on topside?” Kirby interrupts. “Amnesty Lodge I think? They’re a hotel.”

Ever so slowly, Ned turns to Kirby. “Ah yes. Amnesty Lodge. Thank you for the reminder, _Kirby_. However, I wouldn’t recommend it.” He leans closer to Stern, covering his mouth as he stage whispers, “I’ve heard tell the beds are absolutely atrocious. Do your back right out!”

“Thought you said it was a real nice place,” Kirby leans against the counter, brows furrowed. “Made ya a mean Monte Cristo.”

“Young Kirby, is a sandwich a bed? No. It’s not. Now, I believe that young lady over there needs assistance.” Ned gives him a pointed look over the rim of his glasses, and with only a small eye roll, Kirby goes over to help. “Now, Agent Stern was it? Yes, I’d really recommend finding accommodations other than Amnesty Lodge, trust me."

Stern doesn’t, but he also doesn’t trust anyone so Ned really shouldn’t take it personally. Besides, if their services aren’t up to par, that most likely means they’re cheap. Just what Stern needs. So with that, he straightens his tie and adjusts his cufflinks. “Thank you, but I believe I’ll go see if they have any rooms available. Have a good day, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes . . . Yes of course. Have a great day Agent.”

And it’s only as he turns to go get one last look at the extended Bigfoot video does Stern see that the Bigfoot hunters who were previously gathered around the display are all now staring at him, whispering amongst themselves things that if Stern were human, he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“If the FBI’s here, must mean the video’s legit, right?”

“Do you think that he would come on as a guest for the podcast?”

“I’d give anything to know what equipment the government gave him.”

“Might as well pack up, no way we’re gonna find Bigfoot ‘fore this guy.”

“What do you think it’d take to convince him to share his findings wit me?”

Stern’s throat tightens and he absentmindedly starts rubbing his fingers up the cool metal of his watch, double-checking that it’s clasped on tight. The time has been frozen at 4:59 am for seven years now. He prays no one asks why he’s never replaced it. Five minutes in and he’s already drawn so much attention to himself. He needs to leave, needs to get out before they start trying to ask him questions. There is no way Stern’s going to let himself be cornered by a bunch of Bigfoot hunters. With that, he quickly turns on his heel and heads out the door as fast as possible without drawing any more attention to himself. It's only when he’s back in his car, doors locked, and breath back to normal, does he allow the excitement to once again start bubbling up in him.

For the first time since he started looking, he has a credible lead. This actually might be it. He might actually find another sylph like him.

Until then though, Stern must keep as low a profile as possible. The whole FBI thing might draw some unwanted attention, or well, it already had, truth be told. However, he wants to leave nothing to chance this time. In the past, he’s attempted to just go in as an amatuer cryptid hunter, but Stern quickly found that people weren't particularly keen on giving information to some random nobody with a camera and too many questions. A government agent though, that has some clout.

And as long as nobody looks too closely at his badge, he’ll be fine.

Everything will be fine.

Stern doesn’t want to think about what will happen if things aren’t _fine._

As Stern drives through town, perhaps hoping to find a map as he realises that he didn’t ask for directions to Amnesty Lodge, he takes in the sights of Kepler. Along with the standard stores that Stern sees in every little town he’s passed through, there’s also a variety of distinctly cryptid themed locations. He passes by a bakery selling mini-mothman cookies, vampire jelly donuts, and bigfoot bear claws among other treats. There’s also several signs advertising ghost tours that go across town, and although he’s tempted, it’s not what Stern’s here for. He’s sure there are others, but he quickly spots a sign pointing to the topside of town and decides that exploring can wait until he’s secured a room. Sleeping in his car is not a situation he would like to repeat.

After a while of driving on the winding road up into the mountains, he starts passing a long row of what seem to be abandoned resorts . . . Hmm, not a bad place for a sylph to hide. Although it would draw attention exiting and entering, which if the sylph in the video is anything like Stern, attention is the last thing they would want. He’ll check it out ayways. Finally though, he crests the hill and- And there’s nothing. It’s a dead end with a thick line of trees blocking the way. 

For a moment, he simply sits in his car as it idles and tries to peer into the forest. Could the Bigfoot from Mr. Chicane’s video be in there right now? If Stern simply stepped out of his car and into the woods, would they meet? Could his journey be over today? Tomorrow? What will his life even look like if he’s not doing this? Not following every scrap of a lead to find another sylph? 

He can’t even imagine it.

Shaking his head, Stern puts the car into reverse and carefully turns back down the road he came. He must have missed the turnoff for Amnesty Lodge because he is quite positive that Mr. Chicane’s assistant had said it was on topside. Unless it was among those dilapidated hotels he had passed . . . 

However, he’s not even thirty-seconds back down the road before he spies a dirt path to the left, winding off into the forest to where Stern can’t see its end. He hadn’t even spotted it coming in. There are no signs. Nothing to indicate that there’s anything up that path but more forest.

Shrugging, Stern turns down the road and tries not to grit his teeth as his car shakes going over the bumps and holes. Maybe this Amnesty Lodge is so good that its owners know guests will traverse over a top contender for the Worst Road in West Virginia to get to it.

Or maybe Stern should have heeded Mr. Chicane’s advice and found a different place to stay.

Finally though, he rounds the last bend and finds himself in front of a rather nice looking wooden lodge nestled amongst a blanket of trees. Only a few cars are parked out front, giving Stern hope that he’ll be able to get a room. Not that the town seemed bustling with tourists or anything, but still. As he enters, suitcase rolling behind him, he surveys the Lodge in front of him. If Stern was really an FBI agent or just a tourist, he might have taken the time to appreciate the stone hearth in the center of the room and the cozy couches surrounding it. Perhaps he would be admiring the grand piano tucked in the corner near the dining seating and maybe he would even know how to play himself. The glass dome overhead might have caught his eye as well as the wraparound balcony overlooking the main lobby.

However, he is not an FBI agent or a tourist so all Stern takes in are the easiest ways to escape if need be, as he does at all the places he stays. As he was taught to do. 

“Ah, hello?” He lightly calls as he reaches the empty front desk. There is no bell nor anyone in the lobby he can ask for assistance. Should he go find someone? Would that be rude? Would that-

“Sorry, sorry!” From the kitchen, a man comes rushing over to the front desk. “We’re uh, a little short-staffed at the moment.”

“Absolutely no worries. I wasn’t waiting long at all.” Although he may not have appreciated the piano or the hearth, Stern can certainly appreciate how attractive the man in front of him is. Although his eyes convey how tired he must be, they’re also a warm, deep brown. His beard is also very nice looking, the kind that Stern wanted as a child. Overall, he looks like a kind, attractive lumberjack. Not that Stern is seeking a relationship at the moment, goodness no. Relationships require attention and attention leads to death. 

Doesn’t mean he can’t look though.

Smiling, the man moves to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear that had fallen out of his bun. However, he pauses, most likely because he spies the flour still covering his hands. With a sheepish grin, he quickly wipes them on his apron. “So what can I do for you?”

“I’m hoping to check in, that is if you have any rooms available.” Stern gives a smile of his own. 

“Oh uh yeah, of course.” The man starts to say and Stern really wishes he had on a nametag or something. “Let me just-” He pulls open a drawer. “Just a second.” Another drawer. “ . . . Round here somewhere.” How many drawers do they have? “Ah, here we go!” From underneath the desk, the man pulls out a small booklet. “Sorry, been awhile since I was on front-desk duty. 

As he starts to fill out the paperwork he’s been given, very unused to doing this whole process on paper, Stern glances up just in time to see the other man yawn. “No need to apologize. Really.”

“Well, thanks. Name’s Barclay by the way.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Barclay. You can call me Stern.”

Although he tilts his head slightly at the name, Barclay doesn’t comment on it. “Well welcome to Amnesty Lodge, Stern. What brings you to Kepler anyway? If you’re hoping to ski, sorry to say you’ll have to wait awhile.”

With one introduction already under his belt today, Stern feels far calmer when he replies, as smooth as possible. “Well, I am a federal agent with the FBI’s unexplained phenomenon division. I’m here investigating the recent video taken in Kepler displaying, well displaying a possible Bigfoot sighting although that must sound quite silly I’m sure. Have you seen it? The video? Or Bigfoot for that matter?”

Barclay blinks. “Mmmhmm,” he murmurs through a thin smile. “I’ve seen the video. Though I gotta admit, looked pretty fake to me. You don’t think it’s actually real, do you?”

“Well, that is what I’m here to find out,” Stern replies, doing his best to keep his polite smile up. Of course it’s real. In fact, that video is the most compelling evidence of Bigfoot ever recorded. There’s no conceivable way it could have been faked.

And if it was faked, then God help him . . .

“Ah, good luck with that then,” Barclay’s voice interrupts his train of thought. “By the way, how long are you planning on staying?”

“I’m not quite sure yet. If I could pay on a weekly basis, that would be perfect.”

“Of course.”

With that, Stern slides his card across the counter and Barclay spends a good few seconds just staring at it. 

“Is there a problem?”

At his words, Barclay snaps out of it and quickly grabs the card. “Oh, no problem.” He then spends a few seconds shuffling with what Stern can only assume is the card reader below the counter before handing it and a key back. “All set. Got you up in room 28. It’ll be down that hall, second floor, last one on the left.”

“Great. Thank you so much for your help, Barclay.” Stern goes to grab his suitcase and head straight to his room, but before he gets far, Barclay’s voice calls out-

“Agent Stern? If you don’t mind my asking, how’d you hear about Amnesty Lodge?”

“Oh, I was down at the Cryptonomica and the employees recommended it to me. The owner, Mr. Chicane, also said how delicious your Monte Cristos are, so I’ll certainly have to try one.”

Behind the counter, Barclay crosses his arms in front of his chest and murmurs, “Of course he did.” Stern isn’t sure he was supposed to hear that. “I’ll have to thank Ned next time I see him. You know what they say about word of mouth and all that.”

“No, I don’t.”

Barclay laughs, but it's more a customer service laugh than anything genuine. “Oh well uh, it’s the best form of advertising.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“Welp . . . Have a good day.”

“You too.”

“I’ll try.”

And then Stern makes his way to his room. He can’t locate the elevator and he doesn’t want to ask, so he has to lug his suitcase up the stairs. Not that this is a problem or anything. Stern can easily lift more than any human ever could. However, he does pass by some other guests as he goes and so he has to walk the fine line of ‘pretending his luggage is heavy, but not too heavy that it draws people’s attention.’ Finally though, he gets to his room and finds himself surrounded by wood paneling from all angles and some geometric bedspread that actually isn’t that bad. Out of all the places he’s stayed over the past ten years, it’s definitely the best.

He considers going back out into Kepler to get a head start on his search, but already he can feel the weight bearing down on his feet and his eyes starting to ache. No, he’ll wait til tomorrow. Go out recharged and ready to go. Carefully, making sure all the curtains are drawn and the doors are locked, Stern heaves his suitcase on to his bed and unlocks it. Inside, nestled among his clothes, is a small black pouch which he handles like a newborn infant.

Gently, he takes out the small orange crystal dangling from the silver necklace and eases it over his head as he lays down and immediately feels energy coursing through him. He considers taking off his watch too but . . . No. He won’t. For one, he’s just more comfortable with his human form anyway. Changing Stern’s disguise charm when he told his parents he was trans? Easy. He had sat down with his parents and described to them what he wanted to look like, pulling out pictures from magazines they got in the mail that he had been saving to use as examples for his new disguise charm. Now changing Stern’s sylph form . . .

“It’s- I’m sorry, it’s just not possible” his father had told him, voice heavy with regret and apologies he could never get out. “Maybe if we were-”

And then he had locked eyes with Stern’s mother and all had all fallen silent around the kitchen table. 

All these years later, Stern can only assume his father would have said ‘Maybe if we were still on Sylvain’ but that seemed to be an unspoken fourth principle: Never speak of Sylvain. And that is something they took to heart. Having never set foot on that planet, Stern still knows nothing about it.

But maybe the other sylph will know more of Sylvain? Maybe they’ll know of the magic required to change his sylph form?

But really, that’s by far his second priority in finding the other sylph. And besides, even if he had been able to already transition his sylph form too, he still wouldn’t risk taking off his watch here . . .

Stern can’t have the other Lodge patrons knowing he’s Bigfoot, now can he?


	2. Departure and Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barclay attempts to come to terms with Mama's sudden departure and Agent Stern's sudden arrival.

“You know, perhaps this whole debacle isn’t as terrible as you think it will be.”

Barclay is glad that he’s turned around at that moment as he collects the empty mugs from Mama’s workshop. He doesn’t want Ned to see his scowl or how tightly he shuts his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Really? You sure about that Ned? ‘Cause a video of me as Bigfoot fighting an abomination is currently on the internet and Amnesty Lodge is full of people who want to mount my head on a wall. Sounds pretty  _ terrible _ to me.”

It’s only been a week since Agent Stern and the rest of those cryptid hunters checked into the lodge, but it feels like a lifetime. The Lodge hasn’t even had real guests in years. Barclay has no idea how to do any of this! He didn’t even charge Agent Stern when he checked in because he couldn’t figure out how to get the card reader to work. It was only after sifting through every single filing cabinet in Mama’s office did Barclay find the manual for it, just in time for the other Bigfoot hunters to come waltzing in looking for a room. Honestly, he’s pretty sure they’re only here because Agent Stern is here, following after him for any scraps of information he might drop.

Barclay’s in Hell.

“Yes, but you must remember that none of them have even the faintest idea that you could even be Bigfoot!” Ned’s voice echoes around the empty workshop and Barclay cringes. “They’ll probably just jaunt around in the woods for a bit before moving on to some other possible paranormal encounter, mark my words!”

“And what if they don’t? What if they stay? Or more come? Just- Why Ned? Why did you have to post that video?”

“I didn’t!” Ned says, throwing his hands in the air. “Kirby did!”

Barclay sets down the mugs with a clang louder than he wanted. “But you choose to keep the video up. You could take it down at any time, but you won’t.”

“Taking it down won’t do anything. By the time young Kirby showed me he had posted it, the clip already had over one-hundred and fifty-thousand views and had been downloaded countless times. Think even some local news stations have picked it up.”

Groaning, Barclay drops his head into his hands. “Wow, thanks Ned. Really know how to make a guy feel better.”

He hears Ned walk over to him. “I didn’t- Look, all I meant was that there’s no point in taking the video down. In fact, might make things worse now that I think about it. If the video gets taken down, people might start speculating that it’s a government cover-up, start flocking to Kepler to uncover the mystery and all that nonsense. And having our federal agent friend here will certainly give weight to that theory.”

Barclay doesn’t respond and for a few moments, he and Ned just stand in Mama’s workshop as the light streams in and illuminates the dust swirling through the air. 

“I am sorry about all this.”

Sighing, Barclay lets his shoulders drop. “I . . . I know Ned. I just . . .” Another sigh as he collects the mugs. Mama’s always terrible about bringing them back to the kitchen. “I’ve got to get going. There’s so much to do ‘round here with the new guests, and I need to pick up Aubrey’s prescription that the hospital sent over and I promised Marcella I’d pick up some books about the Grand Canyon for them, not to mention that we need more soap, but the car isn’t working for some reason and I haven’t even started on dinner yet . . .”

He takes a breath before his mind can supply him even more tasks to complete.

“Ah, I understand. If you need anything though, you know where to find me.”

“Course Ned.”

With that, Ned exits the little workshop out back of Amnesty Lodge, but Barclay remains. He should leave. He knows he should. There are still so many of Mama’s projects that she hasn’t finished yet, sketches of future sculptures lying amongst the wood shavings. Should he clean it up? No, probably not. There’s a method of Mama’s madness and Barclay doesn’t want to mess that up. Besides, that would also mean looking at the rough lines of graphite pressed to the pages and Barclay knows Mama doesn’t like people looking at her sketches.

Not ready yet, she would always grumble when Barclay used to steal glances at them as he brought her dinner out to her. There was never any true heat behind her words and Barclay would always laugh and counter that if he doesn’t look, how is he going to know what she’s making everyone for Candlenights.

Barclay falters at the memory.

Will Mama even be back for Candlenights?

From her errand?

Blinking, Barclay quickly leaves the workshop and makes sure to leave the sketches and shavings right where Mama left them. She’ll appreciate it when she comes back.

Whenever that may be.

Or if she even . . .

One of the mugs begins to slip from his grip, but Barclay is quick to readjust his hold and continue walking back to the Lodge. He has too many things to do. He can’t add picking up the pieces of that mess to the list.

Speaking of the list, Barclay really needs to figure out what’s going on with the car. Does he even know the first thing about cars? Sure. Cars need gas to go, that’s the first thing. Does he know a second thing about cars though? Absolutely not. But if Barclay can figure out how to act on an alien planet, he’s pretty sure he can figure out how to make a car go again.

After loading the cups into the dishwasher, Barclay grabs a toolbox and makes his way out into the parking lot where the traitorous truck in question sits. Maybe it has some die-hard loyalty to Mama and now that she’s gone, it refuses to let anybody else drive it. Thing is, that’s really not gonna work for Barclay and so with a determination usually reserved to fighting abominations, Barclay gets to work!

Or well, he spends a few minutes trying to figure out how to pop the hood and then he gets to work!

However, as he looks down into complex tangle of tubes and a few wires thrown in for spice, Barclay realises he has absolutely no idea where to even begin. The hot summer sun beats down on him as he simply stares and sweat starts to drip beneath his bracelet. Why couldn’t it just have been a screw loose or something? An easy problem with an easy solution? 

Instead Barclay just feels lost.

Or more lost really. 

Loster?

Fuck, what is he going to do?

“Um, pardon me?”

Barclay jerks up from where he had been hunched over the car engine, bashing his skull on the propped up hood. “Shit!” He yells as his hand flies to grip his head. Could his day possibly get any worse?

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” The voice of Agent Stern rushes out to say and when Barclay looks up, he sees the agent standing a few feet away in his suit, his hands out in front of him like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

Well, that’s how it can get worse.

“It’s . . . It’s fine.” Barclay tries to put on a convincing smile but it’s hampered by the slight pain radiating from his head. 

“Would you like me to get you ice for that?”

“No thanks.”

“I have some pain reliever if that would be better?”

“Again, thanks. But I’m good.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

The two of them stare at each other for a moment, the crunch of the gravel the loudest thing as Agent Stern shifts from foot to foot.

“I’m a bit busy at the moment, so you’ll have to wait if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, ah, that’s not why I came over,” Agent Stern glances over to the car. “I just . . I just wanted to see if you needed any assistance with your vehicle?”

Barclay opens his mouth, but shuts it after a moment. “You know about cars?”

Now Barclay knows more than most to not judge a book by its cover, but Stern looks like the type of guy who doesn’t even like to pump his own gas, let alone fix cars.

“Enough to get by,” Stern admits with a shrug. “Self-sufficiency was highly valued in my home.”

Huh.

Unexpected.

Glancing between Stern and the car, Barclay thinks for a moment. “Shouldn’t you be out in the woods looking for Bigfoot or something? Don’t want to pull you from your work.” Well that’s a lie really, the less time he spends searching for Bigfoot, the better it is for Barclay. However, the fact that Stern is so readily offering his help sends Barclay’s warning bells into overdrive.

“To be honest, I should. However, it would be rude of me to not offer assistance and also, the woods are a tad, well, a tad crowded and I think my search will go better if I let things clear out as it were.”

At that moment, the splitting roar of a fake Bigfoot call pierces the calm of the forest and both Barclay and Stern wince. 

He would never say it, but Barclay gets some small amount of pleasure knowing that Stern also can’t stand the other Bigfoot hunters. There are eight of them, not including Stern, staying at the Lodge and Barclay finds his patience wearing thinner and thinner everyday. If he gets asked one more time to give a quote for some podcast, he’s going to start replacing all the sugar with salt in their coffees. That’s not even to mention the folks who slide up to the counter as Barclay’s cleaning it and start asking him vague mysterious questions like they think he’s an extra on an episode of Twin Peaks. And by Sylvain it's like they’ve all come to an agreement to never say please, thank you, or clean up after themselves. It’s not even like they all came here together! The eight of them seem always teetering on the edge of buddies and rivals, some nights gathering around the hearth trading stories of definitely real Bigfoot encounters and then the very next morning trading barbs about the quality of their equipment. 

Well, all of them but Stern. 

He seems to avoid the group at all costs. In fact, he stays to himself most of the time. Out of them all, he’s the least terrible. Still terrible because he probably wants to drag Barclay off to some government facility for testing if he got the chance, but still better than the others. 

“Well then uh, yeah if you’re sure go ahead and take a crack at it.”

Stern smiles before shrugging off his suit jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves. “So what seems to be the issue?”

“Just won’t start. Yesterday it was fine and then today, it’s busted. No idea what happened.”

“Huh,” Stern goes over and starts inspecting the engine, biting his lip as he hems and haws to himself.

For his part, Barclay just stands there feeling as useful as a statue. 

Finally, Stern turns to him and pushes his glasses further up his face. “So I think it’s just a simple case of your battery being dead. The terminals still seem in good shape, so a quick jumpstart should fix the issue. I can check it with a voltmeter first though, and then if that is in fact the case, I have a set of jumper cables in my car.”

Barclay blinks. “Oh uh, sounds good? I’ll be honest, cars are pretty out of my wheelhouse so I’ll take your word for it.”

And then Stern smiles, “Well I’m glad I could be of assistance, then.”

The rest of the work goes by easily, Stern only really talking to ask Barclay to help him wire up the jumper cables or try starting the car. He doesn’t bring up Bigfoot or other cryptids the whole time as Barclay thought he would.

Unexpected.

But not unpleasant.

Finally, Barclay turns the ignition of the car and sighs in relief as the familiar rumble of the engine greets him as does a pleased smile from Stern.

“Thank you so much for helping,” Barclay says as he gets out of his car. “Really would’ve been in a jam otherwise.”

“You’re welcome. I would have felt terrible if I hadn’t offered to help.” Stern grabs his jacket and unrolls his shirt-sleeves. Not that Barclay was paying particular attention to his arms or anything. Okay, so maybe when Stern checked in last week Barclay had taken a moment to admire the agent. But that was before he found out that he was an agent in the first place. And now that he knows, Barclay definitely won’t be looking at his well-defined cheekbones or the striking figure he cuts in his suits.

Or if he does, Barclay will keep that to himself. Stern may be handsome, but that doesn’t change the fact that he's an FBI agent trying to hunt and kill him.

As if he suddenly remembered who exactly he was talking to, Barclay takes a step back and clears his throat. “Well anyway, I’ve got to get going. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

And as he drives to the pharmacy, Barclay makes himself a mental note to hook up the old computer in Mama’s office and print off instructions on how to jumpstart a car. Agent Stern should be gone in a week or two, so he can’t rely on him to jump his car whenever he needs. 

Or at least, Stern should hopefully be gone in a week or two.

Any longer and the chances of Stern stumbling upon their secret increases, and Barclay can’t have Stern finding out he’s Bigfoot, now can he?


	3. Lonely Long Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stern knows that the third principle is 'Don't Let Others Get Close' but he can't help but wonder if bending that principle will cause everything to break.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

For the seventh time since coming to Kepler, Stern finds himself at the small clearing where the Bigfoot video was shot. Although any and all footprints have been washed away along with any evidence that might have been there, Stern still returns time and time again. 

Unfortunately, it seems that the Bigfoot Hunters have also come back .

Bags of raw chicken sway from the trees and as the breeze turns, Stern gags as the stench of rotting meat hits him square in the nose. Also, scattered around the clearing are unopened bottles of beer and Stern also gags at this because beer is disgusting, he doesn’t care what anybody says. 

Do they really think Bigfoot’s just going to stroll over here, climb a thirty foot tree for some raw chicken and then wash it down with some Miller Light? They didn’t even open the beer bottles and Stern can tell just by looking that he would not be able to open those in his sylph form. And sure, Stern wouldn’t exactly say he’s an expert on the habits of other sylphs, his parents made sure of that, but he feels safe to assume that it’s not a norm on Sylvain to walk around with a bottle opener at all times.

With a sigh, Stern goes around and starts picking up all the beer bottles. He really doesn’t care if this interferes with their hunt. The glass is bound to break and that is sure to cause a hazard. Besides, they left these out for Bigfoot and as Stern does fall into that category, they are technically for him. Once that’s done, he takes a moment to look up to where the meat hangs in the trees. It’s easily thirty feet up, how they even got it up their in the first place is a mystery. A ladder maybe? There’s no way Stern could get up there . . .

Well, unless he took off his watch.

At even just this mere thought, a shiver crawls up Stern’s spine as the words of his parents echo around his head.

“Now remember Joey,” His father would say as he locked the bracelet onto Joseph’s wrist. It wouldn’t be until he was thirteen that Joseph would be deemed responsible enough to have a disguise charm that he could take on and off at his own will. At least he had gotten to change its form to something that suited him better. “What are the three principles?”

“I’m human. Monsters aren’t real. Don’t let people get close.” He would recite dutifully as he always did before he went outside

“And what happens if you break any of those?”

“I’ll die.”

“Exactly. You’ll die. Now,” his father would then smile and hoist Joseph up onto his hip. “Who wants to go get ice cream?”

Stern blinks at the memory and then quickly turns around out of the clearing, the stench of rotting meat stalking him like a shadow. 

Three weeks. Three whole weeks he’s been in Kepler now and he’s still no closer to finding the other sylph than he was when he started. Besides scouring the forest, Stern’s also been going into town to try and glean any information from the locals. However, that avenue has been rather lackluster. Most of the town seems convinced that the video is fake and the ones who do believe in its authenticity don’t have any information on Bigfoot that Stern had not already learned through his research. Currently, Stern’s profile on the sylph in question is that they’re most likely a loner with no strong connections to Kepler. If they do have a permanent residence here, which Stern finds unlikely, it is probably a lone cabin in the woods or something of that ilk. However, it is equally likely that they’re staying in a tent, car or even RV. They have to have a crystal too, and they’re probably the only one using it. 

Stern can only pray that they are willing to share. 

Finally, he makes it back to Amnesty Lodge and as he walks in, Stern tries to avoid the gaze of the Bigfoot Hunters sat around the lobby. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that one of them is trying to wave him over to the hearth, but Stern doesn’t falter as he strides to the dining area. God, why do they all have to look at him?

“Afternoon,” Barclay says with his usual put upon politeness as he walks up behind the counter. “What can I get for you Agent?”

“Ah, could I please have a turkey and swiss on wheat bread. Oh and one black coffee, please?”

Barclay nods and heads back into the kitchen, leaving Stern to flip open his notebook and start making a list of areas of Kepler he should investigate next. There are an abundance of abandoned water parks. That would be a good place to start. And maybe a second look around the vacant lodges leading up to Amnesty might serve him well. Let alone the-

“So turkey and swiss man, huh? I’m more of a roast beef sorta guy myself, got more protein, but I can respect turkey too.”

Slowly, Stern turns to his left to see one of the Bigfoot Hunters sitting down right next to him. Stern had heard him walking over, but he had really hoped that bothering Stern would be at the bottom of the man’s priorities.

Apparently not.

“Great.”

He turns back to his notepad, but it seems that the man is both terrible at finding Bigfoot and context clues. “You can call me Buck by the way. Buck Foss. So, you’re FBI right? What techniques you using? Night vision goggles, right? Yeah, bet you’re using night vision goggles. Personally, I’m a fan of motion-sensor cameras myself. Cuts down on the chance of getting stoned by a ‘squatch.”

“Sorry, did you say-”

“-Stoned by a ‘squatch?” Buck nods and leans in closer to Stern. For his part, Stern leans back. “You must’ve heard the stories? Of course you have. Everyone knows that if you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself out in the forest with a ‘squatch bearing down on you with a rock. Bash your brains right in, they will. That’s why you gotta get them before they get you. What are you carrying by the way? Probably some government issued peashooter, right? Well I’ll tell you right now, that ain’t gonna cut it when you’re up against one of those beasts. That’s why I’ve always got a Remington 870 on me when I go out there. Not gonna give a ‘squatch the chance to eat me.”

Stern’s stomach lurches and if his mouth hadn’t suddenly gone dry, he would’ve called to Barclay that he doesn’t want the sandwich anymore.

“Um, actually,” another voice calls and when Stern looks, he sees a man and a woman heading over. Well, this is legitimately a nightmare. “There is no confirmation that Bigfoot is even a carnivore, let alone has a taste for human flesh. It most likely kills for fun. Like a cat.” The woman pauses as she looks over to the kitchen window. “Excuse me? Let’s get some service out here?” As she speaks, she snaps her fingers and rolls her eyes before finally looking at Stern. “I don’t believe we’ve met, my name is Tammy and this is my husband Gordan. We’re the hosts of the podcast The Search for the Notorious B.I.G Foot.”

From behind his wife, Gordan adds on, “You know what, we’ll even let you come on and guest-star for an episode or two on it. You can talk about Area 51 and all that too.”

“I ah . . . I don’t-” Stern’s knuckles go white as he grips his pencil. Any more pressure and it’ll snap. “I just-”

“Are you two pestering him to be on your podcast?” A fourth voice calls from across the room and they all turn to see a man stroll over. A wide-brimmed tan hat covers his head and as he crosses the room, Stern can just see the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on his face. “Think he’s got better things to do than that, hmm? And Buck, sure that Remington’s powerful, but it’s too big. Too clunky. You’ll never get it loaded in time. That’s why I opt for something a bit smaller, but no less powerful.” And then he stands directly behind Stern, forcing him to quickly turn around on the barstool. His left hand is on his coat, barely pulling it to the side to show off a revolver strapped to his hip. “Name’s Dale. Shame we haven’t met before, living in the same lodge and all. You should come get drinks with all of tonight, we’re all gonna head to a little bar in town. Give you the chance to get to know everybody. Us Bigfoot Believers should stick together, you know?”

Stern’s back presses against the counter as he stares up at Dale, his watch warming up as he rubs his fingers against it. “Thank you for the offer,” he replies as smoothly as possible. “However, I’ll have to decline. Please enjoy yourselves though.”

Dale smiles and spreads his arms wide. “C’mon, Agent. Bigfoot will still be in the forest in the morning. Take a night off! Besides, don’t you think it might be ah . . . Well, good for all interested parties if we shared information. I mean, I don’t mean to brag, but I am the Bigfoot Tracking King of Willow Creek. I’m a pretty big deal down at UP, I'm sure you’ve heard of me.”

And then he puffs up his chest and smiles, the others nodding along seemingly dazzled by Dale.

“Well, I must have missed that memo,” Stern replies as he locks eyes with Dale. Both his chest and smile drop. “Again, thank you very much for the offer, but the evidence I am collecting is highly classified and cannot be shared with civilians. Now, if you would please excuse me.” And then he turns back around in his chair, silently considering if that was too rude, if he drew too much attention.

Nobody around him moves away.

Buck smacks his lips as he chews on tobacco.

Tammy taps her fingers against the wood counters.

Gordan tears his napkin to shreds next to her.

And Dale, well, Stern swears he can feel Dale’s breath hot against his neck even though he must be standing at least a foot away. “Now look Agent, I really think that you should reconsider-”

“Hey Stern?” Barclay suddenly calls as he steps out of the kitchen. Everyone immediately turns at the sight. “Know you said you’d check out the microwave tonight for me, but is there a chance you could look now? Thing won’t even turn on anymore.”

Stern takes a moment to adjust his glasses as he regards Barclay. In the list of things Stern said he would do ‘look at a microwave’ is certainly not on there. Is he misremembering? Maybe one of the other lodge patrons said they would help? The ones who were here before Stern arrived certainly seem close with Barclay. 

However, as he stares, Barclay gives a little nod as he quickly glances at the the group surrounding Stern.

_ Oh _ .

“Why, of course,” Stern rises from his seat and forces Dale to take a step back. “If you’ll pardon me, have a good day.”

Dale barely tips his hat just as he barely smiles. “Sure thing, Agent.”

The others also say their hesitant goodbyes as Barclay ushers Stern behind the counter and into the kitchen. “Yeah, so like I was saying, first it just wasn’t heating up food,” Barclay starts announcing loudly as he walks around the kitchen. “Then the light wasn’t coming on, now it just won’t start. Might take a while to fix, but hey, what do I know about microwaves?” And then, he goes over to the little cutout in the wall leading to the dining area and peeks out. “Well they’re still out, but they’ve at least headed over to the hearth, so I don’t think you’ll have to be making microwave fixing noises while you’re back here at least.”

And then Barclay turns back to him and Stern can only imagine what he must look like, standing stock still in the kitchen, notepad clutched tightly in his hands in front of his chest. “So you don’t need your microwave fixed?”

“What? Oh uh, no. I just- Well I couldn’t figure out a better reason to get you away from them.”

Oh.

“Well thank you, but you didn’t have to do that though.”

“Eh, it’s the least I could after you helped with the car. Besides. . .” Barclay shrugs and gets this little half smile on his face. “I would’ve felt bad just leaving you to fend them off. You really are the belle of the ball here, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes it seems I am.”

For a moment, Barclay pauses and takes a moment to look at him. Stern tries his best not to squirm under the scrutiny. Finally though, Barclay gestures to the large island in the center of the room and it's only then that Stern notices the turkey and swiss sandwich with one black coffee waiting for him. “You can stay back here while you eat. If you want. I mean, can’t really stop them pestering you, but . . .”

Stern swallows. “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“Wouldn’t be bothering me.”

“Am I even allowed back here? I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your superiors.”

Barclay laughs. “The owner’s actually- Well she’s gone. Uh, just for awhile though. Meaning technically I’m in charge.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Stern glances between Barclay and the door.

Don’t let others get close.

That is what has been drilled in Stern’s head all his life.

When others get close, they’ll realise what you are.

It feels like those must have been his first words.

And then you’ll die.

But also . . .

Last March was the eighth anniversary of his mother passing away. Next July will be twenty-one years since his father died. So for ten years, it’s just been Stern. And until he finds another sylph, it will continue to only be Stern. 

And jumping from town to town? His longest conversations some days involving asking the waitress at some diner if they have any maple syrup? Well . . .

Well, it allows a loneliness to fester inside him that would take a cheesecloth against his brain to get out on his own.

So, instead of making a mad dash to the door and executing one of twenty-eight emergency exit plans he’s crafted since arriving, Stern smiles and pulls out a chair. “Thank you.”

“Really, no problem at all.”

And then Barclay takes a rag off the oven and starts wiping the countertops and despite every fiber of his being telling him to eat his sandwich as fast as possible, chug the coffee despite the fact it would give him second-degree burns to his tongue, and then retreat back to him room, Stern instead clears his throat and asks as he starts mixing in his cream and sugar, “So, you’re a chef? That’s . . . That’s great.”

Barclay turns his head just slow enough that Stern can mouth ‘That’s great?’ without him seeing. For a moment, he pauses and glances down as Stern heaps his third spoonful of sugar into his cup. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Uhh, yeah. It’s real great. Really enjoy it.”

“That’s great.”

Hmm, escape plan number six is seeming rather appealing at the moment.

Barclay gives him a tight smile that doesn’t really reach his eyes and then grabs a cutting board and then the rhythmic thud of his knife against the wood is the only sound that fills the kitchen. Slowly, Stern reaches down and takes a bite of his sandwich, avoiding making eye contact.

“This is delicious.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Did you use dijon?”

“Huh?”

“The mustard? Is it dijon?”

“Nope. Just plain old Heinz.”

“Really? I would’ve sworn it was.”

“Well it’s not.”

Stern takes a long hot sip of his coffee.

Barclay continues chopping.

From the lobby, one of the hunters laughs.

You know, maybe loneliness is the price Stern has to pay to avoid these terribly awkward conversations because dear god this is awful. What’s he supposed to say now? Not much more he can say on the topic of  _ mustard _ . And he doesn’t think the subject of sandwiches is a particularly deep or rich vein of interesting conversations. As he thinks that maybe asking Barclay about the soup he served the other night, he yawns deep and long and loud and it really seems like he might be cursed. 

“Long night?” Barclay asks as he begins scraping the chopped garlic into a bowl.

“Just a bit of trouble sleeping actually. Not because of the beds or anything,” he quickly tacks on. “Just ah,” Stern glances over to the window leading to the lobby. He can just faintly hear Buck bragging about the cameras he’s got set up in the woods. “Just some unfamiliar noises I suppose.”

Barclay follows his gaze out the window, sets down his bowl, and rests his forearms on the table. “Heard them out there too, huh?”

“How could I not? They were practically screaming until well past three in the morning.”

Groaning, Barclay drops his voice closer to a whisper despite the fact that the hunters in question are rather far away. “I wanted to go out there and tell ‘em all off, especially when they started doing that- Don’t even know how to describe it, that high pitched warbling?”

“I know exactly what you’re talking about! It sounded absolutely ridiculous! I nearly started laughing!”

“Oh, I did start laughing,” Barclay admits, the corners of his mouth just turning up into a grin. “But only when they started doing those grunting snorts. More likely to attract some hogs than anything.”

At the memory, Stern starts chuckling. “Oh that was terrible! Not as bad as those ‘baby bigfoot noises’ from a few nights ago in my opinion. Those were truly horrendous.”

“That what they were trying to do?”

“Oh indeed. I overheard them talking about it, which honestly-” Stern sets down his coffee cup so he can use both of his hands to gesture. “I’m not sure how they came to the conclusion that a juvenile bigfoot sounds like-”

“Like a printer going haywire?”

“Honestly yes, that is a rather apt description. But really, they can’t expect to just throw some noises together and think they’ve actually got something even bordering on realistic!” And Stern knows what a ‘juvenile bigfoot’ should sound like. He still vividly remembers the low hoots and hiccuping chirps he used to make as a child. As far as he can tell, they’re impossible to mimic by humans. “Not to mention all the garbage they seem perfectly content to just leave around.”

Barclay lightly smacks his hand against the table as he exclaims just a bit too loud, “Exactly!” He then quickly gets a sheepish grin on his face as he looks out the little window to see if the bigfoot hunters noticed his outburst. From their chortling, they did not. “Made one of ‘em, the one with the hat? Dale, I think? Well anyway, made him a plate of bacon the other day, only to find it later on a stump in the woods. Took the plate and everything! Didn’t even attract Bigfoot, just a bunch of bugs.”

“Wait, he stole your plate? How rude!” Stern truly can’t believe the nerve of some people. “Speaking of which, just today I found bags of raw chicken hanging from the trees. It smelled absolutely disgusting and was too high up for me to do anything about it!”

“Well that’s a one way ticket to attracting bears.” Barclay pauses for a moment to scratch his beard. “I’ve got a friend in the forest service actually, if you tell me where it is, I’ll let him know and see if he can go get ‘em down.”

“Oh really? That would be amazing, thank you! I would’ve done it myself, but they were at least thirty feet in the air.”

Barclay whistles. “Damn. They sure are dedicated.

“Indeed.”

“What ‘bout you?”

And then Stern blinks, his sandwich forgotten and coffee sitting barely drunk. “What about me?”

“Well you seem pretty against their tactics, guess I’m curious about what exactly you’re doing instead to uh, find Bigfoot?”

“I was under the impression you don’t believe in the paranormal.”

Barclay shrugs. “You’re right,” he says, turning away from Stern as he starts to root through the fridge. “I don’t. Just seems hard to believe that Bigfoot’s out there in the woods right now.”

Stern can’t say it, but he agrees with him. Bigfoot’s probably not out in the woods right now. Maybe they’re at the store or taking a bath or curled up with a nice book far away from the prying eyes of Kepler. But the woods? Well that’s highly unlikely. 

“Well there are many things in the world we have yet to understand, who's to say Bigfoot isn’t one of them?”

Barclay doesn’t respond, just keeps looking through the fridge.

“Anyway though, to answer your question, my methods are more focused on observation and interviews. The thought of trying to lure Bigfoot out with meats or fake calls or anything of that sort, I don’t know, it seems pointless and distasteful.”

The shuffling from the fridge stops and Barclay glances behind him to Stern. “And uh, if those interviews and observations work? And you find Bigfoot? What then?”

What then?

Stern thinks for a moment to his pendant tucked safely away in his bag upstairs, how its faint orange glow which has been such a comfort to him since he was a child grows weaker and weaker by the month.

What then?

He remembers the feel of his mother pressing it into his hands and explaining that out of everything they own, this pendant was the most important. Their disguise charms could be replaced. The crystal could not. 

What then?

And the crystal, it's the only way Sylphs on Earth can survive. That was one of the few things his parents ever explained to him about sylphs or Sylvain. So the other sylph certainly has one too. One that Stern can only pray that they are willing to share.

What then?

Otherwise, everything that makes him who he is, every ounce of his humanity will be stripped away leaving nothing but an animalistic beast in its place. And if Stern is correct in his estimates of how much energy his necklace has left, he has less than six months before that fate is inevitable. 

What then?

Then he gets to  _ live. _

“Oh you know,” Stern starts, trying to keep his tone very much the opposite of his thoughts. “Making contact is my primary goal. I certainly wouldn’t be carting Bigfoot off to some government facility if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Raising an eyebrow, Barclay shuts the fridge door with a practiced bump of his hip. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh.”

“Not what you were expecting from an FBI agent?”

“No,” Barclay admits, head tilted as he takes him in. “Guess not.”

And then he offers Stern a little smile, that Stern returns, although he quickly hides it behind his coffee cup as he takes a long drink.

And maybe his parents would disapprove of even this. Oh who is he kidding, they would certainly disapprove of this, but Stern pushes that thought to the back of his mind. Sure, he might be mulling over every answer for anything that could give him away and he still hasn’t discounted escape route seventeen, but talking with Barclay? 

Well it’s nice.

And as Stern’s sandwich lies forgotten on his plate, far more interested in whatever Barclay’s going to say next, Stern assures any worries bubbling in the pit of his stomach that he isn’t truly breaking principle three.

Besides, this is just a one time thing.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original idea for this chapter involved Barclay and Stern trapped in a grocery store after a bear wandered through town and then I realised that mutual annoyance is a far better motivator for them to get to know each other. Also, when I wrote the draft, I didnt know what the name of the Bigfoot podcast would be or the name of the gun, so it was fun going back over it and just finding BIGFOOT PODCAST WITHOUT A NAME and BIG GUN in the fic.


	4. A Company Too Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barclay can tell himself that inviting Stern into the kitchen with him is a 'Keep Your Enemies Closer' tactic, but the fact that he doesn't see Stern as an enemy anymore says all that needs to be said.

This was supposed to be a one time thing.

That’s what Barclay tells himself as he watches Stern try to muffle his laughter behind the palm of his hand, his eyes shut and head tilted back as the warm glow of the kitchen lights bounce off his hair. 

“I truly don’t know how you keep your patience,” Stern manages to get out. “At least I’m under no obligation to interact with them, you really don’t have a choice. Honestly, the other day when they were asking about those cryptid themed foods . . .”

Groaning and trying to hide his own smile, Barclay continues grating his frozen butter into the awaiting flour as he creates his pie dough. “Don’t get me started. I mean, really not sure how I could’ve spelled it out for the guy more clearly. We have never and will never have cryptid themed food. Just not gonna happen.”

“Well what about Bigfoot Burgers?” Stern teases, parroting the insistent line of questioning from one of the Bigfoot Hunters, Gordan, that Barclay had to put up with the other day. “Or perhaps Ghost Goulash?”

“At least those made some sense. Got that alliteration going. Not like Vampire Tater Tots.”

Another quiet laugh from Stern that echoes around the room. The sound has become just as much of a staple of the kitchen in the past month as the sounds of the blender or of the quiet click of the stove turning on. Kepler is now only just greeting the October skies and Barclay has found himself spending more and more time with Stern than he ever anticipated. At first, he told himself that inviting Stern to eat in the kitchen was more for his own benefit than anyone else's. The less the Agent spends with those bigfoot hunters, the less information they’ll share amongst themselves and the less of a chance that any of them might put together the puzzle pieces that create the picture of Barclay’s doom.

However, Stern turned out to be great company. Not only does he have interesting little anecdotes from his journeys across the country, but by Sylvain herself, it was cathartic to lock eyes with him from across the room as some customer was making an ass of themselves and get that confirmation that yes, Barclay was not overreacting and someone else thought that demanding to speak to a manager because Barclay they don’t have goat butter was absolutely absurd. And well . . . Barclay won’t admit it, but it gets a bit lonely back in the kitchen all day. He finds himself looking forward to when Stern comes back from searching for Bigfoot in the woods. Sure, the beginnings were filled with some awkward silences and an abundance of the word ‘great’, but slowly and surely they’ve gotten better. 

Like right now for instance.

“Oh, that was the worst! As much as I would like to limit my time around all of them, I am honestly tempted to put that aside just so I can ask what, praytell, vampires have to do with tater tots?”

Well Dani really does like tater tots, but . . .

“No idea. If you ask ‘em, please let me know. It’s been keeping me up at night.”

Stern smiles, and idly stirs his spoon around his empty coffee mug. “I’ll certainly let you know. Even with you allowing me to eat back here, they all still hound me for information on my progress, so I’m sure I’ll run into them soon.”

Ah . . . Yeah . . .

It was easy to forget sometimes that Stern was trying to find Bigfoot. Not hunt though. Barclay had stopped thinking of him as hunting Bigfoot a while ago, when Stern seemed so viscerally opposed to the thought of harming Bigfoot in any way. But the thing is, he really doesn’t bring up his work often. Or at all. And Barclay’s fine with that. He likes their talks to be a distraction from everything, so he had no complaints there.

“Also, I should probably be heading to bed now,” Stern says as he glances towards the oven clock despite wearing a watch. “Thank you again for that delicious lasagna. No surprise there though, I haven’t had a single meal here that wasn’t superb.”

And as Barclay picks his grater and butter back up, he tries not to preen at the praise. “Thanks Stern, always glad to hear it.”

Stern smiles at him as he pushes his chair in, grabs his plate and goes over to wash it in the sink. Barclay learned long ago that telling Stern he doesn’t have to do that yielded no results, and yeah, Barclay won’t lie- he does really appreciate it. A gentle and comforting silence settles over the kitchen for a moment as Stern rolls up his sleeves and starts scrubbing away at his plate. However, the quiet doesn’t last for long as Stern clears his throat. “Ah Barclay?”

“Yeah, Stern?”

He can’t see his face, but he can see how rigid Stern’s posture is and it makes Barclay pause. He hasn’t figured out he’s Bigfoot right? No. That’s impossible. Right? Right. Unless . . .

“I was just- Well, if you wanted to call me Joseph, you can.” His voice comes out artificially light, like this line of thought came out of nowhere. A passing idea that seems to have been passing through for some time. “If you want. Or you can continue calling me Stern. I have no preference. Really.”

For a moment, Barclay just stares at the back of Stern’s neck where a few wisps of black hair had come out of his usually perfectly combed and jelled style, a stark contrast to the red just starting to bloom on the back of his neck. Barclay smiles. “No problem.”

After just a moment, the tension in Stern’s shoulders eases just a touch and he glances behind him as he puts the dish on the drying rack. And then, Stern smiles one of the smiles he gets when he takes his first sip of coffee in the morning after he’s cleaned Amnesty out of all the sugar they own, or when he gets some new idea and starts scribbling in that notebook of his.

Not a half bad smile, truth be told.

“Great. Sleep well, Barclay.”

“You too, Joseph.”

And then he leaves the kitchen and Barclay can hear the click of his dress shoes against the wood floor getting quieter and quieter until the tick of the wall clock drowns it out. 

For a while, Barclay stays in the kitchen humming to himself as he finishes up his pie dough. It’ll be a blueberry pie, should be ready by dinner tomorrow. Usually, Barclay’s more of an apple pie kind of guy, but well . . . He won’t say that he’s branching out solely because he’s seen how much Stern likes blueberries. The man will just ask for a bowl of blueberries and pop them into his mouth as he sits at the counter and writes in his notebook. That coupled with his sweet tooth, well Barclay can’t wait to see him take the first bite . . .

Anyways, once he’s incorporated the ice water, Barclay wraps up his pie dough in saran wrap before putting it into the fridge. If he wants it done for supper tomorrow, he’ll need to get started on the filling in the morning while he blind bakes the crust. Do they still have tin foil? He’ll need to get some if not, he’s not having overdone edges again. His thoughts on pie continue as he heads to his room and changes into his swim trunks, leaving on his shirt til he gets out to the springs. 

He doesn’t particularly want any of the Bigfoot hunters seeing him shirtless. Or even worse, join him in the hot springs. Or well, maybe not all of them . . . And then without warning, the thought of inviting Stern out to the hot springs with him enters his mind and he doesn’t even get a second to ponder the thought of the two of them relaxing in the water before he opens the sliding glass doors and sees the hot springs already occupied.

Settled deep in the water are Aubrey and Dani. Steam rises off their skin as Aubrey sweeps her arms out wide. He can’t exactly tell what the story is about, but it must be good by the way Dani’s smiling as she listens with rapt attention. Barclay should probably go? Sneak back inside while he still can. He can wait ‘til tomorrow to re-energize in the springs. It’s been pretty hard not to notice how close the two of them have been getting, and that’s even setting aside all the times he’s accidentally caught glimpses of Dani’s sketch book as she shades in her drawings of Aubrey in her magician’s outfit.

All in all, Barclay doesn’t want to interrupt them and so he silently steps backwards towards the lodge, only for a creaky panel to give him away like a traitor.

In sync, both Aubrey and Dani look up at him. 

“Barclay, hey!” Aubrey calls, waving over to him. “Wanna join us? Water’s really nice!”

Glancing between the two of them, Barclay shrugs. “Nah its fine, can always come back later. Don’t wanna interrupt your conversation.”

Dani smiles and waves a hand like she's dismissing the thought. “You’re not interrupting, now get over here.” Knowing this is a battle he can’t win, Barclay strips off his shirt and eases himself into the water. Immediately, he feels the familiar flow of magic flow into him, taking away the aches and stresses of the day. Sure his crystal can top him up, but there’s nothing like the warmth of the springs and besides, that’s more for emergencies. He keeps it locked away in his drawer just in case. “Aubrey was just telling me about her first ever magic show.”

“Yeah! It was this little town in Florida, some nursing home wanted me to come do my act for the guests and not gonna lie, two people did fall asleep! And one guy did accuse me of being a witch.” Aubrey pauses and tilts her head, her voice dipping into a hurried whisper. “Wait, was he right? I mean, I can do literal actual magic, does that make me a witch?” She suddenly whips around to Dani. “Is that what I am? Like the word for magic users in Sylvain, what does that translate to in English?” 

Dani thinks about it for a second. “I mean, I don’t think there’s really a good translation? Like, magic is so common on Sylvain, most sylphs can do at least a tiny bit of it. So we, I don’t know, don’t really have a specific term for someone who can do magic.”

“Yeah, like I can’t do magic,” Barclay comments. “But I’m more of an outlier. Dani here though, she can do some pretty powerful stuff. Really impressive. Best magic user at the Lodge I’d say.”

Shaking her head, Dani laughs and splashes water in his direction, but Barclay’s pretty sure it’s more to distract for the blush rising on her cheeks. “I mean, yeah I still know some spells. But I haven’t practiced in a while.” She coughs. “So how’s the Bigfoot Brigade been?”

Barclay pauses from where he had been splashing water on his face. “The what?”

“The Bigfoot Brigade!” Aubrey repeats. “It’s the name I came up with for all the hunters and stuff. Just rolls off the tongue easier, you know?”

“Uhh, yeah. Guess it does.”

“But anyway, about the Bigfoot Brigade,” Dani starts, levelling Barclay an odd look. “Agent Stern sure was in the kitchen for a while tonight, huh?”

“Nah, not really. He was only back with me for what? Twenty minutes? Thirty minutes tops?”

Dani blinks. “Yeah it was more like two hours.”

Opening his mouth, Barclay realises he doesn’t have an idea of what to say and then quickly closes it again. Two hours . . . Really? It didn’t feel like two hours. Guess it’s just easy to talk to him. “Oh? Time just got away from me, I suppose.”

“Yeah but like . . . “ Aubrey rubs her lips together and she quickly runs a hand through her hair. “He’s back there with you like, a lot. Like a lot a lot. Like everyday a lot. You don’t . . . You don’t think he’s on to you, do you?”

“What? No. He’s not- How could he even- No. I’m inviting him back with me. Not like he’s just barging into the kitchen. Besides, Joseph doesn’t even talk about work with me."

Dani raises an eyebrow. “Joseph?”

“It’s Stern’s first name. He asked me to call him that.”

“Huh, I imagined him with an S name,” Aubrey comments with a shrug. “Get that good alliteration, you know?”

Dani smiles at that but it doesn’t last long. “I’m just- Well, I’m worried Barclay. Between him and the Bigfoot Brigade, what are we gonna do when the next abomination comes? It’s only a few weeks away now. I mean, with all of them either hanging out at the lodge or in the woods all day, they’re bound to come across something.”

And she’s right. Barclay knows she’s right. But damn is it easier to pretend that they have nothing to worry about. That maybe the abomination won’t ever come. That the Bigfoot Brigade will be blind to all that’s going on. That the only reason he invites Joseph to eat in the kitchen is to keep an eye on him. It would all be so much easier. But it's not the truth. 

Barclay sighs. “I don’t . . . I’m not gonna lie, I don’t know what we’re gonna do when the next abomination comes and I don’t know what we’re gonna do about the Bigfoot Brigade. But out of everything, please trust me when I say that Joseph should really be at the bottom of our list of worries. Not like he has any clue about the arch or Sylvain or anything. He’s not a problem.”

“Alright Barclay,” Dani says, a small smile on her face. “You know him more than the rest of us.”

And then in the silence, the crickets deep in the woods take up the call and begin to sing. However, their melody doesn’t last long as the glass door once again slides open and Jake comes bounding out.

“Do a cannonball!”

“Don’t run!”

Jake glances between Aubrey and Dani, seemingly trying to figure out who to listen to. However, a slow shake of Barclay’s head causes him to exit out of his running stance and slowly make his way over to the hot springs.

“Awww, would’ve been cool,” Aubrey mumbles as she sinks back further into the water.

“Well I can hold my breath underwater for like, fifteen minutes! Wanna see? It’s totally rad!” Jake doesn’t wait for an answer and instead takes in a huge breath, breathes it out and then starts to duck under the water.

From somewhere in the distance but far closer than any of them liked, raucous laughter echoes around the forest.

Jake pauses, his eyes peeking up out of the water. 

Both Dani and Barclay stare off into the darkness.

Aubrey glances between the three of them in silence.

“You know,” Dani starts, voice softer than before. She still keeps her eyes trained on the forest. “Maybe you can show us that later? Huh, Jake?”

He sinks even deeper into the water and nods. After just a moment, a gurgling sound comes from him and Barclay can see the air bubbles coming up.

Barclay offers him a comforting smile. “Can’t hear you Jake, gotta come above the water.”

Another, shorter burst of bubbles appears before Jake surfaces and simply asks, “When do you think Mama’s coming back?”

Despite the heat of the hot springs, Barclay still shivers as a cool autumn breeze blows against the back of his neck. 

“I don’t know, Jake. Hopefully soon.”

Jake glances out towards the forest. “Where do you think she went?”

Well Barclay knows where he thought she was going. An errand, that’s what she told him she had to go do. Just a small errand down to Leo’s and then she’d be right back. He had assumed she was getting Aubrey snacks for when she woke up from the hospital, that she would be back any minute . . .

Guess that was a lie.

“Wherever she is, I’m sure she left for a very good reason,” Dani steps in to say as Barclay remains lost in thought. “When she gets back though, I’m sure she’ll have a plan for dealing with, well dealing with all of this.”

And with that, the topics of conversation settle into the mundane. Barclay asking if anyone needs anything from the store, Dani updating everyone on how her plants are coming along, Aubrey and Jake debating whether or not the Loch Ness Monster is real.

As they speak, the waxing gibbous moon hangs above them. 

A guillotine waiting to drop.


	5. Twelve Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always good to remember that there are things that do go bump in the night in Kepler.

‘Wooly haired quadruped cryptid with horns native to West Virginia’

Stern scans over the clue a few times as he mulls it over. He’s been sitting in the lobby of Amnesty Lodge for only around a quarter of an hour now, enjoying the heat of the fire as he fills out the newest crossword puzzle in  _ The Lamplighter _ . For a moment, he considers seeking out Barclay to see if he has any guesses as to what the clue could be referring to, but he quickly disregards the idea. Barclay went down to the general store about thirty minutes ago to gather supplies to fix the hot springs and the rest of the water to the lodge. Must be an issue with the pipes, something so out of Stern’s wheelhouse that all he could offer this time was to make a trip to the library to see if he could locate any books on fixing water pipes. But Barclay had declined the help, offering Stern one of his smiles, not his usual crooked smile that looks like how his freshly baked blueberry muffins taste, but something far more tired and no less sincere. 

It makes sense though. From the coyotes creeping ever closer to the Lodge to the issue with the water, Barclay’s been running truly running himself ragged this last week. The two of them barely had a chance to talk to be honest. And well . . . Stern won’t say it, but he’s missed chatting with him. It’s nice being invited back into the kitchen, Barclay letting him try his baked goods straight out of the oven as he tells some tale about when he got caught in a storm in the rockies or when his uncle taught him how to cook. But those stories were absent this week. It seemed like anytime Barclay was back at the lodge, he was with Ms. Little, Mr. Chicane, and a forest ranger, Mr. Newton, who Stern only met briefly.

Probably here about the coyote problem.

All of which leaves Stern here, sitting in the empty lobby, chewing on his thumb as he tries to figure out what West Virginian cryptid is wooly and has horns? Again, there’s really no one he can ask. The other lodge residents, well they seem to avoid him at all costs, which honestly works perfectly for Stern. While he may be able to justify getting closer with Barclay, increasing that number of companions will spell nothing but trouble. 

He is already breaking principle two in a major way, no reason to test the limits of principle three with further friendship. 

Really, the only other people Stern has to worry about getting too close are those Bigfoot Hunters and they’re all gone for the night, off investigating some accidents at a waterpark claiming that Bigfoot must have torn the place down.

Ridiculous.

Shaking his head, Stern taps his pen on the page and tries to refocus on the crossword puzzle. He’s had a busy week of interviews and investigations and he deserves a night off. 

Alright, so the wooly hair would almost suggest Bigfoot, however, that was the answer for five across. Besides, this word is twelve letters, the eighth letter having to be a U from where it intersects with ‘Chupacabra’- fourteen across.

Hmmm . . .

Somewhere outside, the wind howls under October skies.

What cryptids are even native to West Virginia?

The newly waning moon barely illuminates the night.

There’s the mothman . . .

Branches sway and scratch against the wood.

The Flatwoods Monster . . .

Dead leaves rustle and crackle.

What else is there in West Virginia?

From somewhere outside, gravel crunches underfoot.

Stern whips his head around to the window at the sound. There’s something . . . Off about the noise and Stern feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He continues listening, suddenly finding the silence of the lobby that just a moment ago had been comforting now unbearable. There’s a pattern to the sound- One loud crunch of gravel, like a footfall, another this time softer, and then the noise of something large and heavy being dragged across the ground.

If he were human, he wouldn’t be able to hear any of this, nor the labored heavy breaths accompanying whatever is out there in the night, stalking closer to the Lodge. 

But he’s not human and so he hears it all, along with his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

Slowly, Stern sets down his paper, tucks his pen behind his ear and stands. Maybe it's those horror movies Mr. Chicane shows on Saturdays that are getting to him, but Stern has a heavy feeling in his gut that something is wrong. As silently as possible, he creeps over to the window and tries to peer out into the night. However, the glare from the warm lights around the lobby stop him from seeing anything but his own face staring back at him.

He should go investigate.

Stern doesn’t move.

He really should go see what it is.

His breath comes out faster.

He can hold his own against anything.

From out back of the lodge, a long loud creak of wood cracks the night air and Stern jumps. It sounded . . . It sounded like a door opening . . .

His eyes immediately focus in on the door leading out to the hot springs and finds it firmly closed. Are there other doors to the back? God, he doesn’t know . . . Well there are the doors leading out from the individual rooms to the ground floor verandas, but those are bound to be locked . . . Right?

_ Thump! _

_ Thump! _

_ Thump! _

_ Thump! _

Stern’s blood goes cold as the distinct sound of something being dragged down stairs reaches him. 

Alright. That’s it. Stern can’t just stand around any longer! Taking a deep breath, he makes his way to the front door, avoiding all the creaky panels he’s taken note of over the past two months. Once outside, Stern doesn’t bother with a flashlight. His night vision is impeccable, even in his human form. Slowly, Stern walks across the dirt of the flowerbeds to avoid the crunch of the gravel (an idea he took from escape route four if he should ever need to make a quick escape). As he rounds to the side of the lodge, he spies a large, unevenly indented track in the gravel. If there were footsteps, they’ve been covered up by whatever was dragged behind it.

He swallows thickly. 

Maybe it's the other sylph?

Maybe it's a robber?

Maybe it's something else . . . Much of Sylvain is still shrouded in mystery to Stern, his parents going out of their way to keep as much information possible hidden from him. 

Who's to say everything from that planet is good? 

And then before he can reconsider it, Stern rounds the last corner of the back of the lodge-

And is assaulted by a flashlight beam to the face.

“What the-

“Who's there?”

It takes a second for Stern to adjust to the sudden light, but when he does, what's in front of him is a woman standing in front of the closed doors of the cellar, her large frame covered by a tattered and torn duster. The parts of her face not covered by a . . . By an honest to god cloak, are dirtied and scratched, fresh blood dripping down the side of her face. Propped under her arm like a crutch is a shotgun and her breathing is erratic and heavy. 

“Who are ya?” she mumbles, voice deep with a prominent West Virginian accent.

Stern blinks. “I’m ah- Stern. I . . . I live here.”

And then the woman smiles, before wincing. “Well Stern, don’t reckon ya know how to drive yet, do ya?”

“What? Yes, I know how to drive.”

“Perfect,” she pauses and nearly stumbles forward. “Need ya to get me to the hospital.”

This time, she really does tip forward, that shotgun crutch not doing her any favors and Stern is quick to catch her. Immediately, Stern goes to her side, and hoists her arm around his shoulder and starts making his way to his car, leaving the gun where it lies. Whatever thoughts on how insane this situation is can wait til later. Right now, this woman needs serious medical attention and Stern’s not gonna be the reason she doesn’t get it. 

“Uhh, okay. Don’t fall asleep? I think that’s bad with head wounds. So listen to my voice? Or maybe you should be talking? I really don’t know,” Stern continues rambling as he helps the mysterious woman into his passenger seat. It really feels like he should be calling an ambulance, but with the hospital so close, he feels like this will be faster.

God, he hopes this is the right choice. 

Once he’s in the car, both of them buckled, he reverses out of the parking lot as fast as safely possible and speeds down the little dirt road, avoiding potholes where he can as not to jostle his passenger.

Glancing over, Stern sees the woman's eyes beginning to close now that her hood has been pushed back and he tries to keep the panic inside him from rising. “Oh- uh, don’t fall asleep? Alright? What’s you- What’s your name, ma’am?”

A weak chuckle greets him. “Ya got close. Folks . . . Folks ‘round here call me- Call me Mama.”

Stern pulls out onto the main road and starts making his way down from topside. “Mama? As in Madeline Cobb?”

“The very one.”

“You run the Lodge then? Barclay’s told me a bit about you.”

Mama tries to nod, but only gets halfway through one before wincing. “How is everyone at the Lodge doin’?”

“Good, good, they’re . . . Yes, they’re good.” That’s . . . Well it’s not a lie per se. Stern’s not really sure how the others are doing, and besides this one lousy week, Barclay’s been good. However, the news of his boss’ injuries will most certainly make the week even worse so . . .

“You’re new.” Mama states, her words starting to slur together. God, maybe the ambulance would have been better.

“Yes, I’ve been at the lodge . . . Wow, two months now, how time flies.”

That also means he has four months until his necklace loses power . . .

“Heh, just . . . Just missed ya then,” Mama interrupts his thoughts. “Weird ain’t it? Adjusting to everything . . . Here.”

“Indeed.”

“Wish I’d been, been here,” She starts to say before trailing off. Just as worry starts to pool in Stern’s stomach. Her eyes refocus and she continues. “Have this, tradition. Woulda brought you . . . Up on the roof . . . Shown ya your-” She pauses and coughs, wet and heavy. “Shown ya your first sunrise.”

His first what?

“Beautiful ain’t it? Heard from the others that the light . . . It’s . . . Ya know, hard to get used to. Seem to be adjusting- Adjusting well, huh?”

Alright, so maybe that head injury is worse than Stern thought. 

“Ahh, yes. The sunrises here are rather beautiful. I grew up in Connecticut, so not many forests and mountains and such there, you know?”

Mama goes silent.

The car fills with a soft red from the stoplight.

“What’d ya say brings you to . . . To Kepler?”

“Oh yes, I’m a special agent with the FBI’s Unexplained Phenomenon division. I’m here investigating the Bigfoot footage posted by the Cryptonomica.”

For a moment, Mama just looks at him, a low, gravelly groan humming in her throat. “That so?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes narrow and Stern can’t tell this time whether its from drowsiness or not. He doesn’t have time to investigate further as the light turns green. “Hope you’ve felt . . .  _ Real welcome _ at the lodge.”

“Oh, indeed. Barclay has been an amazing host. You’ve got yourself a truly great employee, Ms. Cobb.”

“I’ll let him know.”

And then Stern turns down onto first avenue and sees St. Francis Hospital a block away and any and all other thoughts leave Stern’s head, and are replaced with plans of the easiest way to get Ms. Cobb out of the car and what he’s going to tell the nurses.

The next thirty minutes are a blur of nurses wheeling Mama away and Stern trying to explain that, no he doesn’t know what happened to her, he’s never even met her before and that she’s technically his landlord? He guesses? All of it puts Stern on edge. He’s never even been in a hospital before. They’re not going to ask for his own ID, right? Or his insurance? God, he doesn’t even know of an insurance company name that he could say he has.

However, no questions come about his insurance or ID. Leaving Stern sitting on the hard plastic chairs not knowing really what to do . . .

_ Barclay. _

He should call Barclay.

Quickly finding the payphones, Stern suddenly realises that he has no idea what the number to the lodge is. And while the nurses might not know the number to the lodge either, they do have a phone book and it only takes Stern a minute to find the number and dial it in. 

“Amnesty Lodge, this is Barclay. What can I do for you?”

Stern pauses at the tone of Barclay’s voice, the fake cheer that used to greet him when he first came to Amnesty so foreign now. He hasn’t heard that in ages. “Barclay, it’s me- Joseph.”

“Oh Joe, hey!” The customer service tone melts away to reveal the soft low voice Stern is used to. “Something wrong? I thought you had turned in for the night.”

Stern only allows himself a second to pause and think about what he’s going to say next before he replies. “Well, yes . . . So I’m at the hospital at the moment with-”

“Oh fuck, are you okay?” He hears shuffling, like Barclay had put the phone between his ear and shoulder. “Did you get hurt out in the forest? Here, give me a minute and I’ll drive down there.

And really, Stern would have ideally cut Barclay off far sooner, but he finds himself frozen in place. 

He doesn’t . . . 

He can’t . . .

He didn’t realise that Barclay cared that much about him.

When was the last time someone cared that much about him?

But he can examine those feelings later, right now he’s got a mission. “No, no, no, I’m fine. It’s your boss, Ms. Cobb, who is injured.”

Barclay’s breath stutters. “Mama? She’s- She’s back? Is she- Fuck! Is she okay?”

“Well she’s being seen by the doctors now, I don’t think- Well, they won’t tell me anything because I’m not a family member- but she was still talking and was still able to walk inside with some help. So I think she’ll be okay.”

There’s most shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Okay, okay, we’ll uh, we’ll be down there in a second. We just uh . . . Yeah. Be there soon!”

“Alright, see you soon Barclay.”

And as Stern goes to hang up the phone, he just barely catches the hurried, tinny, shout of “Mama’s Back!” before the phone beeps loud and long.

Well . . .

Nothing to do now but wait he supposes.

And honestly?

Stern does not have to wait long.

It’s not even five minutes before the automatic doors of the hospital lobby slide open and a verifiable sea of people come pouring in. Leading the group is Barclay who strides up to the counter without an ounce of hesitation and starts talking with the nurse. Behind him must be about two dozen people, all of which Stern recognises as other residents of the Lodge. Besides Ms. Little and Mr. Coolice, Stern couldn’t say the others names if he had a gun to his head. He thinks that perhaps the blonde woman often seen with Ms. Little or her rabbit may have a name that starts with a D? Or maybe an L? She’s among those who avoid Stern, so that guess is just that, a guess. However, it's hard not to notice how utterly exhausted everyone looks. It’s dulled slightly by the general buzz about Mama being back, but there’s still many half-lidded gazes, shuffled feet and hunched shoulders.

All that in mind, Stern does his best to not draw attention to himself as he shifts in the plastic chairs. However, he shouldn’t really be worried. Everyone is pressing as far forward as they can to hear what Barclay’s saying to the nurse. It’s mostly just Barclay asking how Mama is doing, with the nurse calmly replying that she’s being seen by the doctors and that she’ll update him when there’s more information and also could everyone please sit down as they’re blocking the entrance.

Slowly and with no lack of grumbling, the rest of the Lodge residents file into the empty seats, the one’s farthest from Stern being taken up first. 

Should he leave?

He should leave right?

Or would it be worse to leave?

Will they wonder why he’s staying?

He’ll have to walk right past them and that sounds terrible.

“Alright everybody,” Barclay calls to the gathered crowd of people. “Mama’s in surgery at the moment, but they’re gonna let me know when anything changes. Gonna be a few hours though. Know it's been . . . Been a long week for everyone. And uh, I know no one really got a chance to uh,  _ use the water back at the lodge since I fixed it _ . So how ‘bout y’all head back? Promise I’ll call soon as I hear anything.”

Instead of replies filling the room, the only sound is the grainy voice of Mr. Chicane from the television set in the top corner of the waiting room enticing viewers to come see the hidden wonders of the world.

Barclay sighs. “Mama will understand. You know she won’t want to hear that y’all ran yourselves ragged for her.”

That actually gets a response, with a few murmured agreements across the room. The others start grabbing their coats and heading out, most going up to Barclay to say goodbye and to make him swear that if Mama so much as sneezes, they’ll know about it.

Ms. Cobb must be a great person to have her tennants care this deeply about her.

Eventually though, everyone does leave.

Well, everyone but Barclay.

The chair next to Stern lets out a heavy creak as Barclay slumps down into it, head held in his hands. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest too?”

“I . . .” Barclay raises his head. “I can’t leave. Gotta stay here, make sure she’s alright . . .” He fiddles with his bracelet for a pregnant moment. “Thank you, by the way. For bringing her here. Don’t even know what would have happened if you weren’t around . . .”

“Please there is no need to thank me. Anyone would have done the same, I just happened to hear an odd noise outside and went to investigate.”

“Still, thank you.” And then Barclay glances up at the clock near the TV. “Speaking of getting some rest, shouldn’t you be getting back? Know you’re not big on staying up too late.”

This gives Stern pause. It's true. He doesn’t like staying up late, needing to go back to his room and recharge with his necklace every night. However, he hadn’t realised that Barclay noticed this habit. “Perhaps. But well, I . . . I don’t want to leave you here all alone.”

“Don’t worry about me, really, Joseph.” 

And then there’s that smile, but it's still not his usual smile, still faded with the weight of the week.

“Are you sure you don’t want a little company? At least until the others come back? Otherwise, the only thing you’ll have to do here is watch ah-” Stern glances up at the television. “Reruns of Frasier apparently.”

Barclay chuckles and Stern counts this as a success. “Can’t have that. I mean, if you want to stay, yeah, be nice to have some company. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Oh, before I forget,” Barclay suddenly says as he roots through his coat pocket. When he pulls his hand out, Stern spies his copy of  _ The Lamplighter _ . “Found this in the lobby and thought you had forgotten it and just gone to bed. I know you like finishing them, was gonna give it to tomorrow, but uh, here.”

Stern goes to take the paper and feels his fingers just brush over Barclay’s.

They’re slightly rough, probably from all the work he does. He briefly wonders what it would be like to hold his hand.

Coughing, Stern looks down to the paper to hopefully hide the red rising to his cheeks. God, where did that even come from? He doesn’t have time for a relationship! Besides, if friendship is tiptoeing into breaking principle three, anything more is essentially taking a sledgehammer to it.

But he can think about that later.

“Thank you,” he manages out and then to really steer the conversation away from whatever his mind was just conjuring, Stern quickly asks, “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know of a wooly quadruped cryptid native to West Virginia with horns? Twelve letters? The eighth being a U?”

Barclay thinks for just a moment. “Sheepsquatch.”

Pausing, Stern’s eyes scan over the crossword, counting out the letters in his mind and . . . Yes, it fits. “Huh. Thank you. Now if I only had my pen with me.”

At this, Barclay laughs quietly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh it’s just- Well here,” And then Barclay’s hand, still looking very much like something Stern would like to hold, reaches out towards his face and if that had been anybody else, Stern would have been halfway out the door already. However, its Barclay- who gives him the first slice of blueberry pie and hides him in the kitchen when the hunters come by and who Stern could listen to all day- So Stern remains still as Barclay’s fingers just barely brush the shell of his ear as he gently pulls out the pen Stern had placed there earlier.

And this time, Stern doesn’t look away.

Instead, he locks eyes with Barclay as he holds out the pen, heat rising in his cheeks as he stares right back.

“Oh, forgot that was there.”

“Makes sense. With the arms of your glasses.”

“Yep.”

“Sorry, I should have just, told you it was there.”

“It’s fine. Really.”

“Alright then.”

It’s then Stern realises Barclay is still holding out the pen, so he quickly goes to take it, breaking whatever spell the two of them had been under. 

And as Stern quickly fills in twelve down of his crossword, Barclay so close to him that their thighs are nearly pressed together, one thought enters his head.

_ He is so Fucked. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is def one of the 'canon with a twist' moments and I had a lot of fun writing this idea of like, hey what if Agent Stern had found Mama instead of the others. There aren't many of these through the fic, but it was just too good to pass up


	6. Boil Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barclay loves caring for the Lodge, making sure his family is happy. 
> 
> Just sometimes it's a lot.

Three bruised ribs.

Internal bleeding.

A broken ankle.

And a blow to the head.

The list of Mama’s injuries runs through Barclay’s mind over and over again as he scrubs down the kitchen counters. It’s been two weeks since Mama returned and was immediately whisked away to the hospital. Every single day without fail, Barclay visits her despite the fact that she still hasn’t woken up. The doctors always assure Barclay and the rest of the residents who bring Mama fresh flowers and her favorite tea that she’ll be fine, just needs more rest.

Barclay’s getting kinda tired of hearing that.

Just, seeing his best friend laying there in the hospital, her usual determination and warmth gone, well it's hard to watch. Sighing, Barclay starts unloading the dishwasher, hoping the pattern of the task distracts him.

It doesn’t.

Where she went or what happened to her are both still mysteries. The doctors try to speculate with guesses that she fell down a steep hill or was attacked by an animal. They even asked Stern to come in at one point and recount everything he could remember about finding Mama to see if that would offer any clues, as if she was attacked by an animal, steps would have to be taken to ensure no one else was injured. 

And Stern had, well he had told them everything he remembered, but none of it really indicated what could have happened to her. Still, Barclay was and still is grateful for Stern’s help in that and everything after. He honestly wishes he was here now, but Joseph insisted he had some work to do in the forest. Ugh, Barclay hopes he doesn’t run into the Bigfoot Brigade out there. Tammy and Gordan went out to the woods this morning, Buck’s been camping out there for the past few days, and for some reason, Barclay saw Dale leaving the lodge just an hour ago with some speakers and a baby doll of all things so who the fuck knows what he’s doing with that. All of which leaves Barclay at the lodge alone. The other’s had asked if Barclay wanted to come along on their ski trip today, but he had to decline. If he’s not here to take care of the Lodge, who will? He needs to make supper for when everybody comes back, dust the lobby, make a shopping list, wash the towels and call the hospital again to see if there have been any updates on Mama since he visited that afternoon.

It’d be nice to have Stern here to keep him company. He truly is a good friend.

Just a good friend.

A good friend and nothing more.

A good friend with a bright smile that he tries to cover up when he laughs but that doesn’t stop Barclay’s heart from fluttering every damn time. 

Barclay blinks, a set of plates still stacked high in his hands as he shakes his head and continues unloading the dishwasher. 

Even if Stern wasn’t an FBI agent, there’s no way he would even have time for a relationship. What with abomination hunts and generally keeping things afloat around here. No, no way it could happen.

Now, whether he would want it to happen . . .

Barclay’s thoughts are cut off by the sound of the front door creaking open and he spends a second in the following silence trying to figure out who it might be. Maybe one of the hunters? Or actually, no, it’s probably Aubrey, she did say she might come back early from the ski trip. 

“You have trouble mastering the pizza-french fry stunt?” Barclay calls, voice light and bordering on a laugh. “Told you it's tough.”

“Yeah, don’t think I’m in any state to be doing any pizza or french fry stunts if I’m bein’ honest.”

And Barclay doesn’t even wait to hear the second word before he rushes out of the kitchen and nearly runs straight into Mama. Instead, he brings her into a hug that he wishes were tighter but he saw how bad her ribs were bruised, no way he’s going to do anything that could make them worse.

“You’re back, you’re okay, I don’t- How-” He doesn’t let her go, even as his vision starts to blur. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Mama pats his back and he can just hear the catch in her voice when she murmurs, “Glad to see you too, Barclay.”

Reluctantly, Barclay pulls back from the hug, heat rising in his cheeks when he sees the damp patch on Mama’s shoulder. “How long have you been awake? I told the hospital to call me as soon as anything changed. And did they discharge you without having anyone there to pick you up? You didn’t walk here did you? Is your ankle alright? Here why don’t you sit down, I’ll make you some tea and see-”

“Barclay,” Mama’s voice reaches him through his ramblings and he both stops walking and stops his mind from running a mile a minute as he stacks on more things he has to do. “I haven’t been up long, no they didn’t discharge me, I took the funicular, and my ankle’s fine.” She offers him a smile and Barclay feels himself relax. “However, that tea does sound good and I wouldn’t say no to sittin’ down for a minute.”

Immediately, Barclay goes and gets Mama’s favorite mug and starts brewing her favorite tea. He’s made sure to always keep some in stock these past few months, so that whenever she came back, he’d have some prepared.

Well, to be honest, for the first few days she was gone, Barclay still prepared the tea every morning and set it aside for her, thinking that  _ today _ will be the day that Mama comes back . . .

He stopped that after week two. 

But none of that matters now. Mama’s home and things can start going back to normal. Thank Sylvain that the hospital discharged her so quick, that’s just-

Barclay pauses as he sets the kettle on the stove.

“Mama?”

“Yeah, Barclay?”

“When you said the hospital didn’t discharge you, you meant that they didn’t discharge you without telling someone, right?”

From the other room, Mama is silent.

He steps out of the kitchen and tries not to groan. “Mama, please tell me you didn’t leave without permission.”

Before she can answer, the phone on the wall starts to ring, loud and shrill.

“If that’s the hospital, don’t pick up.”

“Mama . . .”

“Alright, alright,” she shrugs and smiles at Barclay when he doesn’t go for the phone. “Look, there’s a chance that I maybe escaped the hospital when the nurses weren’t watchin’, but in all fairness, they made it pretty darn easy to get outta there.”

“Well they probably weren’t expecting a woman with a broken ankle to do a runner, now were they?”

“Their fault for underestimating me.”

And despite himself, Barclay starts to laugh and it doesn’t take long at all for Mama to join in. Damn, he’s missed this.

When the laughter dies down, Mama takes a moment to gaze around the lobby, a soft smile on her face as she looks up through the glass dome, rays of light cascading down on her from the nearly setting sun. “God, it’s good to be back.”

“It’s good to have you back.”

Shifting in her seat, Mama gingerly turns to face him. Seeing the healing cuts and scrapes on her face still hurts, but they still look so much better than two weeks ago. It’s not like Barclay hasn’t seen her hurt before. For the longest time it was just them going on hunts and they both had their fair share of injuries. But these? Fuck he can’t even imagine what could have done this to her. However, before he has the chance to ask, Mama’s voice reaches him.

“So tell me, what’s been happening at the Lodge since I’ve been gone. Did Jake stop tryin’ to jump off the balcony onto the couches? Oh and did Lukas ever get up the nerve to head into town? And what about Dani and Aubrey? Those two were so flustered ‘round each other for even that little time I was here, I gotta know how that’s goin’.”

“Oh c’mon, you know that Jake’s not gonna stop trying that until he manages to sneak past me and do it,” Barclay smiles, thinking about how just yesterday he had to grab Jake under the arms before he tried to stunt off the balcony. “Lukas hasn’t ventured into town, but he’s working on it. Think he’s wanting to join a local book club eventually. As for Aubrey and Dani, they’ve become fast friends.” At this Mama raises an eyebrow and Barclay shakes his head. “Just friends. Least I think so. I don’t know, been trying to give them their space to figure all that out. Though I’m sure now that you’re back, you might be getting some requests for advice.”

“I’m sure I will. Speakin’ of, where is everyone?”

“Oh they’re out skiing. Should probably be back soon though. They’re gonna be happy to see you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

And then, anxiety that’s been curling in Barclay’s stomach begins to break free. Well, if there’s ever a time for bad news, it's after warming her up with the good news. “Also uh, Mama? There’s- There’s some, well, some other stuff happened while you were gone too. It well- There’s a video. Of me. From that night when I met Ned? Yeah, apparently the camera was still rolling and his assistant found it and well . . . There’s a video of me without my bracelet up on the internet fighting an abomination.”

From the walls of the Lodge, the many clocks Mama made over the years tick loudly.

“Shit.”

Running a hand over the back of neck, Barclay tries to psych himself up for this next part. “And uh, it may have attracted the attention of some Bigfoot hunters.”

“ _ Fuck _ .”

“And maybe there’s a slight possibility that they live at the Lodge now,” Barclay gets out as fast as possible, as if that would stop Mama from hearing it.

It doesn’t.

“What do you mean they live here?” Mama asks, voice rising. “At the Lodge? You’re tellin’ me that we’ve got a bunch of cryptid hunters livin’ under this roof?”

“Yeah . . . There were eight of them, but four have left. Honestly, just these two podcasters and two hunters now, all pains in my side.”

“And the FBI agent? He’s real right? Most of that night’s pretty fuzzy, half thought I dreamed him up.”

Barclay pauses for a second. To be honest, he hadn’t even been counting Joseph among the others. “Stern? Yeah he’s real, but he’s also a really nice guy. Honestly, don’t even think we need to concern ourselves with him. It’s the others that are the problem.”

“You know, pretty sure I nearly revealed everything to him?” Mama asks, and Barclay has to wonder if she even heard what he said. “Thought he was a new sylph, started tryin’ to ask him ‘bout how he enjoyed his first ever sunrise ‘til he told me he was a Fed. You know how much shit we’d be in if I hadn’t stopped myself?”

“He probably would have just thought you had a concussion, I mean, I can’t imagine his first thought was gonna be that you’re confusing him with an alien.”

“You don’t know with these government types, even having him ‘round is far too risky.”

Barclay rubs at his temples and sighs. He’s getting kinda tired of no one believing him when he says Stern's fine.

However, Mama hears his sigh and must have misinterpreted it as she leans over and pats his knee. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll figure out how to get ‘em all outta here in no time.” 

And while he wants to clarify that she’s only talking about the Bigfoot Brigade, another question surfaces in his mind that he can’t keep pushing down. “Mama?”

“Mhmm?”

His voice comes out far quieter than he intended. “Where did you go? What . . . What happened to you?”

_ Why did you lie? _

“Oh. Yeah.” Mama sighs and tilts her head down, the shadows suddenly making her look exhausted. “Look Barclay, this was something I’ve been plannin’ out for some time-”

Wait.

She’d been planning this?

For some time?

And she still hadn’t told him?

“-But I wanted to wait ‘til we got more members to fill out the Pine Guard.”

Is that why Mama accepted the others so readily?

Because she needed someone to take her spot while she went off?

“And well, I didn’t want to tell you, cause I knew you’d be worried-”

_ Worried? _

She thought he might be worried if she told him?

Well thank Sylvain she didn’t because Mama just heading off in the middle of the night after lying to him, that really cut down on his  _ worry. _

“And well, couldn’t trust you not to try and come after me.”

Couldn’t . . .

Couldn’t trust him?

What the fuck?

“But, well I knew it was my only chance to uh, well, go find Thacker.”

And just like that, the sound of a thousand mugs breaking echoes in his mind.

“You . . . You found Thacker?”

She nods. “Went into the wilds of Sylvain, tracked Thacker down. He’s . . . There’s somethin’ wrong with him. He’s gone feral or something like it. Had to drag him back here, but boy did he put up a fight.” 

“But how- How did you know he was in the wilds?” 

With a sheepish look, Mama shrugs. “Look, ‘fore he left all those years ago, I- Well I came across him packing and didn’t take much to connect the dots."

He hasn’t eaten anything today and yet he still feels like he’s gonna be sick. “But you said you didn’t know where he was. That he left without a word to anyone.”

Mama sighs. “I know, it’s just- Again Barclay, I know you. Knew you would’ve worried ‘bout him being off in the wilds, knew you would’ve wanted to go and help. Thought it was better to just have everyone think Thacker just took off one night and was, I don’t know, eatin’ gorp in the Bahamas.”

Barclay doesn’t know what to say. Feels his mouth form the words “Where is he?” more than he hears them.

“Down in the basement. Didn’t know where else to put him.”

Thacker . . . His friend . . . He’s been down in the basement for the past two weeks? Just below his feet?

Barclay wants to vomit.

“But . . . But I could have, could have helped you. Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

Mama flashes him one of her warm smiles, but this time it feels like it burns. “That’s the reason. I knew you’d want to help, but I knew you had to stay here, help the pine guard, take care of the Lodge and all that.” She reaches out and pats his knee. If Barclay weren’t numb he would’ve jerked his leg away. “But none of that matters now, we’ve got to figure out how to deal with these hunters, huh?”

From the kitchen, the kettle screams.

Without thinking, Barclay stands up and walks to the kitchen. “Let me go get that.” In the kitchen, the kettle is still wailing, Barclay standing in front of the stove but not moving to take it off.

Mama didn’t trust him.

His best friend.

And she didn’t trust him.

She lied to him all these years.

He could have helped.

But no.

He had to stay here.

Take care of everything.

Like always.

The sound of the front door opening reaches him just before the loud excited yelling of Aubrey echoes around the lobby. He doesn’t look out the window from the kitchen, but he can imagine Aubrey giving Mama a big hug. Other voices join in, Ned and Duck from the sound of it. He doesn’t hear the other lodge residents though, they must still be skiing. Next are the low-tones of Mama asking Ned about a certain video he posted, but Barclay can’t hear Ned’s response, but he can’t tell if it's because he’s talking quietly or because of how loud the kettle is still screaming.

Finally, he takes it off the stove and begins pouring the tea, going through the motions without thought.

She didn’t trust him.

“Barclay,” Mama calls from the lobby. “You up for a meetin’? Think it might be best to try and tackle some problems while we’re all here.”

“Course.”

And before he goes back out, Barclay shelves the teabags and his thoughts. He’s not going to get anywhere if he lets them fester at the forefront of his mind. They’re something he can deal with later. All of which means that when Barclay steps out of the kitchen, mugs in hand, there’s a bright smile on his face that he prays no one recognises as his customer service smile.

Luckily, everyone’s too caught up in the excitement of Mama being back for them to notice anything is amiss and they all file into her office like nothing is wrong.

“Alright, folks,” Mama calls as she hobbles over to her desk. Everyone looks seconds away from standing up to help her, but a single look stop them. “Now that I’m back, reckon it might be, well, beneficial for us to come up with a plan to get rid of these hunters and I-”

“We’ve been calling them the Bigfoot Brigade,” Aubrey chimes in. 

Shaking his head, Duck is quick to say, “Nah, you’ve been calling them the Bigfoot Brigade. I still think we should come up with something else. I mean, between Bigfoot Brigade and Bom-Bom, we’ve got ourselves too many B words.”

“I concur!” Ned calls with a grin. “So, Barclay you’re going to have to change your name, I’m sorry to say dear fellow. Maybe an L name? Liam perhaps?”

Any other day, Barclay would have played into the joke, maybe would have started suggesting other names he could go by, asked Ned if he could one of his many middle names. But today? Today all Barclay can manage is a thin smile. 

“Anyways,” Mama’s voice cuts through the rest and they pause. “The uh, the Bigfoot Brigade-” Aubrey grins. “Are gonna cause real problems for us. Sooner they all leave, the better.”

Barclay wonders for a moment what it would have been like if Mama had been here when they all first came. Would she have dug up the No Vacancy sign from the shed and hung it in the window, turning the lot away with an apologetic smile and a recommendation to try that Count Gilu Hotel down near Riverside? Would he and Stern have even bonded if the Bigfoot Brigade wasn’t here? Cause if they hadn’t been bothering him, there would have been no reason for Barclay to invite him back into the kitchen . . .

Huh.

Guess there’s a silver lining to everything.

“Problem is, don’t know how easy they’re gonna be to get rid of.” Barclay wanders to the window as he speaks, raising up one of the blinds with his finger and peering out into the red of the setting sun. “They’re all pretty persistent and well, unfortunately, seem to like it here.

“So could we not just do our best to make their stays here a bit less welcome?” Ned asks, leaning back in his chair as he tents his fingers together. It's the same look when he suggested they lead the bom-bom to one of the water parks. “I might ah, know some tricks that would make even the most persistent people evacuate the premise rather quickly.”

“None of these plans involve me, right?” Duck looks between the four of them. “Cause uh, if I’m gonna have to lie ‘bout any of this, maybe I should just leave? And I’m certainly not gonna whip Beacon out to scare ‘em off, no matter how much he’d like that.”

It’s then that the sword strung through Duck’s belt loops grins.

Mama shakes her head, a tiny smile playing on her lips. “Don’t worry Duck, no one’s gonna ask ya to lie. Or get out that sword of yours. However, think you might be onto somethin’ there Ned. We’d have to be careful though. Do anythin’ too drastic and we’re gonna get the FBI hot on our heels.”

Narrowing his eyes, Barclay turns around from the window. “What?”

“Well just sayin’ that if they suspect that we’re orchestrating the whole thing, FBI’s gonna think we’ve got something to hide.”

“Oof could you imagine that? Buncha FBI agents swarming around here?” Aubrey takes a long sip of her tea and it gives Barclay just enough time to comprehend what they’re saying.

“Wait, we’re not getting rid of Joseph, right?”

“Joseph?”

“Uh, Agent Stern. We’re not getting rid of Agent Stern.”

Credit where credit is due, Mama just slightly tilts her head, her mouth barely open as she takes Barclay in. “Well yeah, course we are.”

And Barclay uses the moment to imagine that, imagine Stern not at the lodge anymore. It shouldn’t feel that weird, he’s only been here a couple of months now and yet . . . The thought of no longer seeing Stern’s face light up with a proud smile when he finishes a particularly hard puzzle, of never hearing Stern’s stories or laugh again, well it twists Barclay’s stomach into knots.

“But he’s . . . He’s not with the others. Can’t even stand to be around them. There’s no need to get rid of him.”

“No need to-” Sputtering, Mama looks between Barclay and the Pine Guard, a silent question of whether they were hearing this too. “Barclay what in the world are you talkin’ about? He’s a Federal Agent here to hunt you down! Explain to me why he shouldn’t be priority number one?”

It’s Barclay’s turn to sputter.

“If we- He’s not- You don’t-” He takes a breath and tries to force his shoulders to relax. Unfortunately, they’re still tense from earlier. “Look Joseph’s- Joseph’s fine, alright?”

In one of the chairs on the other side of Mama’s desk, Duck mumbles something, apparently louder than he expected as his eyes go wide whenever everybody turns to him.

“What was that, Duck?” Aubrey asks as she flicks a tiny flame between her fingers.

In response, Duck just sinks lower in his chair and brings the brim of his hat down to cover his eyes. “Me? What? I didn’t- Who we talkin’ ‘bout? I’ve never even seen- fuck- talked to . . . Stern? That his name? Yeah, don’t know much about him. Can’t really say nothing so . . .”

Mama drags a hand down her face. “God, how’d you get worse at lyin’?” 

“Are you under the impression that your skills at evading the truth are good in the moment,” Ned begins to ask as he looks over at Duck. For his part, Duck does his best not to make eye contact. “Or are you aware from the beginning that they’re nothing short of terrible?”

Somehow Duck sinks lower in his seat. “Thought that one was pretty good . . .”

“Anyways, what were you tryin’ to say?” Mama asks, her tone both kind and leaving no room for argument, something she’s perfected over the years.

Before he speaks, Duck glances at Barclay but quickly looks away before he has time to decipher what the look means. “It’s just . . . Well, Agent Stern came by the forest station uhh, two days ago? Maybe three? Anyways, he wanted to ask us all some questions. Juno found the whole thing funny, a federal agent askin’ us if we’ve seen Bigfoot out in the woods. But uhm, I don’t know, some of the questions he asked seemed . . . Well, they seemed right out of place.”

“Out of place like he was flirting with you or out of place like he knows more than he’s letting on?” Aubrey finally extinguishes the flame in her hands just as Barclay nearly snaps his neck turning to her, his stomach dropping for all the wrong reasons in hindsight. 

“Definitely not flirtin’,” Barclay breathes out a sigh of relief that he hopes no one heard. “But not sure about the second one either. I don’t know, they were just weird. Questions about if anybody lives out deep in the Monongahela, away from town. Told him that sure they’re are some cabins out there, but must folks stay closer to town. Not sure what that has to do with Bigfoot though.”

“That’s not that weird, he was probably just looking for more people to interview.” Barclay takes a moment to trace his thumb along his bracelet. “Look, if Stern knew even the smallest thing about sylphs or the gate or anything, I’d know. But he doesn’t. And he never will. So again, there’s no reason to get rid of him. In fact, it’ll probably make things worse.”

Can that be the end of it? Please? There are a million other things Barclay should be doing instead of defending Stern. Honestly, why can’t they focus on the Bigfoot Brigade? They’re a far bigger thorn in his foot than Stern.

Leaning forward in his chair, Ned adjusts his glasses and even before he speaks, Barclay already knows he’s not going to like what he’s going to say. “Be that as it may, weren’t you the one to lament that the only reason that the Bigfoot Brigade is here is because of our federal agent friend?”

Barclay goes from gently running his fingers across his hempen bracelet to gripping his own wrist. But before he has a chance to collect his thoughts into some semblance of a word, Mama turns to him. “That true, Barclay?”

“Well- Yes, but-”

“Yeah I mean, Dani overheard one of the Bigfoot Brigade the other day, one of the podcasters I think, saying that as long as Stern’s here, they’re staying too. Like the fact that he’s still here makes them think that he has a lead or something, and if there’s a possibility that he could find Bigfoot, there’s no way any of them are gonna miss that.” Aubrey shrugs. “Personally I think they’ve got a big case of FOMO.”

“What the hell is FOMO?” Duck asks before Barclay can say anything.

“Fear of missing out.”

Ned groans and taps his cane against the floor. “Kids these days!”

“Dude you’re like thirty-five and FOMO’s been around since the 90s!”

“Yeah, if anyone gets to complain ‘bout kids these days, its me. Just yesterday, I found more nails hammered into a tree! I think it was those Hornets again.”

“Alright, alright,” Mama calls and the room instantly goes quiet. Well, mostly quiet, though the pounding of blood through Barclay’s veins still goes loud and erratic. The others must hear it too, right? It’s too loud in Barclay’s ears for them not to hear. “We might actually be able to wrangle this to our advantage. Gettin’ five separate people to hightail it out of here, well that’s a tall order. But gettin’ one guy to leave and the others to follow? Well, that I think we can manage. All we gotta do is convince Mr. FBI over here that the video was faked. No Bigfoot, no reason to stay in town. Now, anyone got any ideas?”

“Actually, yes,” Ned starts as Barclay stares. “I’ve been mulling over an idea where we get my Chewbacca costume and make-”

“Are any of you even listening to me?” Barclay interrupts, voice louder than he intended but he knows that if he doesn’t speak up, no one will be able to hear him over that constant pounding in his ears as blood rushes through him. 

The room goes silent.

“None of you even know him, but I do. So why don’t you believe me when I tell you that he’s not a threat? That getting rid of him will cause more problems than it's worth? Cause if he figures out that you’re trying to get rid of him, don’t you think that’s gonna bring down a hell of a lot of suspicion on us? On the Lodge? I mean, I’m the one he’s looking for, don’t you think I should get some say in all of this?”

“But this doesn’t just affect you, Barclay,” Mama counters, her voice gathering up an edge as it drags across the floor to him. “If Stern cottons on to what’s going on here, everyone’s gonna be in danger. I just- I can’t wrap my head around why you got so friendly with a federal agent in the first place.”

From their chairs, Aubrey, Duck and Ned remain silent, glancing back and forth between Mama and Barclay. They never really got to see how he and Mama usually interacted, only being around for a few days before Mama left without so much as a word, or well, a few words that all turned out to be lies. Maybe they think this is normal. However, Barclay knows that if it were Dani or Theo or Jake or Nexiad or Moira or anyone else really, they would know that this isn’t the way it goes. Even Barclay knows that, but at that moment, everything starts bubbling to the surface and he can’t keep it down even if he tried.

“So what was I supposed to do?” Barclay fires right back. “Ignore him? Can’t really do that what with running the lodge by myself the past few months. Or should I have been rude to him? Tell him to get lost when he offered to fix my car? You know what that would’ve done? It would’ve just driven him right into the arms of the Bigfoot Hunters and then we’d all be fucked.”

Mama looks like she wants to stand up from her chair, but the boot around her ankle stops her. “I’m not sayin’ that. But you know there’s a middle ground between bein’ rude to him and inviting him back into the kitchen with you everyday.”

Opening his mouth, Barclay realises too late that he doesn’t have a reply. He hadn’t even told her about that. He can’t help but wonder who did. Quickly glancing over to the others, he immediately notices that none of them will meet his eye.

“Look Barclay, I know you’ve got a kind heart and want to help people where you can, but trust me, Agent Stern isn’t worth the trouble. So he helped with your car, and yeah he drove me to the hospital, but most folks would’ve done the same thing. He’s still a fed and he still wants to cart you off somewhere and run some god awful experiments on you. What ‘bout him could possibly outweigh that risk?”

And at this point, the pounding in his ears has subsided into a deadly quiet that makes what Barclay says next all the louder and all the worse.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s sweet and intelligent and actually listens and trusts me and doesn’t lie to me and helps me out without me even having to ask and he keeps me company and at least when he says he’s going on an errand, he actually  _ damn well comes back! _ ”

Barclay’s breath comes out heavy.

Mama’s eyes are wide.

Ned and Duck glance at each other.

Aubrey grimaces.

Somewhere deep in the forest, something shatters.

Why did he say that?

He didn’t mean to say that.

Oh fuck.

And Barclay can’t- He just can’t take the staring and the judgement and just everything. Shit, they probably think he’s a selfish asshole.

Maybe he is.

So before anyone can say anything else, Barclay strides out of the room, the creaking of the wood under his feet all too loud, just as the taste of copper in his mouth is all too much.

“Barclay!” Mama calls after him, but her voice sounds distant, like she’s calling from underwater and so he continues walking, passing by the other sylphs at the Lodge. Oh good, they’re back now and from the way they either look away or stare right at him, they obviously heard the argument too.

He should start on supper.

He should go back and apologize.

He should help plan how they’re going to kick out the Bigfoot Brigade.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, Barclay escapes towards the front door, not knowing where he’s going, just knowing that for the first time in his life, he needs amnesty from Amnesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very fun chapter to write because I really liked exploring how Barclay mightve felt once he found out that Mama had been lying to him all these years. And it was interesting seeing how things might be different with Stern coming to the Lodge in August right after the video was posted instead of October because Barclay had so much more time to grow close to him before Mama comes back


	7. A Cry In The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While continuing to search for the sylph in Kepler, Stern finds something in the woods.

The forest imparts upon Stern an odd sense of both comfort and unease as even the gentlest of footfalls sends branches snapping and leaves crunching under the thin blanket of snow. On the one hand, he is alone, far away from prying eyes perhaps a touch too keen. On the other, he is alone, with the towering tree trunks looming above him and blocking not only the light, but any sense of civilization. God, it feels lonely.

Stern used to not mind that dull ache of loneliness as it kept him company all these long years. But now that he’s received that tantalizing reminder of what it feels like to not be alone, to have someone to talk to and laugh with, the solitude tastes bitter in his mouth. 

However, he needs to be alone right now, needs that space to think. November’s chill has just begun to hug the mountaintops and creep down into the valley of Kepler below, bringing with it flurries of snow that have long since settled and yet, Stern is no closer to finding the other sylph. If he had a better lead, he would have left Kepler by now. His feelings for Barclay aside, Stern’s time is running out right along with the energy from his crystal. Every week it feels weaker, like a cup of coffee left out and losing heat. 

By his estimates he has until February until the crystal grows cold- The necklace which was as constant in his life as his parents. Stern can still remember the excitement he felt as a child when his mother would pull his hair back at night and gently ease the necklace over his head, like slipping into a warm bath. 

“How does it work?” he remembers asking his mother one night as she brushed his hair, the necklace hanging over his chest. “The crystal? How does it work?”

His mother had hummed a low, soft note and continued brushing out the tangles. “The crystal gives us some of the energy stored inside it.”

“But why do we need it? Humans don’t need crystals, do they?”

At that his mother had paused. Technically, he had broken principle one by suggesting he was anything other than human. But perhaps the scent of lavender from his bath calmed her, or the fact that for the first time in months, he no longer tried to pry off his disguise charm every chance he got now that the pigtails and dresses were gone, replaced by short hair that felt fun to run his fingers through and pants that he didn’t have to cross his legs in. Whatever the reasoning was, his mother hadn’t berated him for the slip up and instead continued brushing as she had explained, “No, people get their energy from food and water, we’re different. We need a special type of energy and this necklace is the only way on this planet to get it.” Stern had nearly asked at the time about how they got their energy on the other planet, the one they whispered about when they thought he was asleep. However, he learned rather quickly that any and all questions about Sylvain would be met with a firm rebuke that Sylvain doesn’t matter anymore. They are on Earth and on Earth is where they will remain. Forever. “The crystal powers our disguise charms and also, well . . . Remember the monster from the story I read you the other day?”

Not only had Stern remembered it at the time, he still remembers that monster to this day. The snarling mouth filled with fangs which seemed to drip down out of its mouth in no pattern onto the page, the claws ripping everything in sight to shreds, the hungry blank stare, and finally the townsfolk thanking the brave knight for slaying such a terrible monster, it was . . . It’s not something Stern’s been able to forget all these years later.

“Well, without this necklace, that’s what we would become. Nothing but monsters.” The comb had then caught on a tangle and Stern remembers wincing as his head was tugged back. His mother had gently kissed the top of his head, murmuring out apologies that thinking back, he can’t be sure were about the tangles. “But enough of that, have you thought of your name? I still think John would be a handsome name for the handsomest young man, huh?”

Stern realises that he’s stood stock still as the forest moves around him. That’s not important at the moment. What’s important is finding this sylph and convincing them to share their necklace with him. So with that, Stern continues walking around the forest, not necessarily looking for tracks but using the silence to think.

Alright, who around town could possibly be the sylph? From his research, there have been multiple Bigfoot sightings in Kepler over the years, leading him to believe that the sylph is a permanent resident and not someone passing through like he first suspected. Hmm, the grocer in town, Mr. Tarkesian, he’s certainly a possibility. Just the other day Stern caught sight of him carrying a large box out back of his shop that seemed far too big and heavy for a man of his age to be able to handle. If he were the sylph, that strength would carry over to his human form. 

Or maybe he really is just a strong human. It’s not impossible. That Ranger Newton, also seems rather strong. Sighing, Stern wanders around the base of a large pine tree as he lets his fingers brush the bark. He’ll keep Mr. Tarkesian in the maybe pile for now.

Hmm, there’s . . . Well there’s also Ms. Cobb? She left Kepler right after the footage was shot and since she was gone, there were no further sightings. And there’s also the fact that she seemed, well rather displeased when he told her he was an FBI agent. However, it seems many people at the lodge aren’t exactly fond of him, so that reasoning is a tad bit weak. Besides, Ms. Cobb has been in the hospital for two weeks and if she was the sylph, her heart rate would have been far slower than a human being and someone would have noticed. Not to mention that they would have surely taken all of her personal belongings off, including a disguise charm if she had one.

So that’s a no for Ms. Cobb then.

Stern’s hand falls away from the tree as he slowly weaves his way through the forest, stepping from root to root where he can as to not disturb the forest floor. 

God, who else could it be? The woman who runs the bakery in town seems to be too forthcoming with information concerning cryptid sightings to be the sylph and while Sheriff Owens seems far more sceptical, he also has a high profile job in town and Stern can’t imagine the sylph risking exposure like that. 

A groan that is far too close to growl escapes Stern’s lips and he takes a moment to pause and breathe. Who else? Who else could it possibly be? He thought for the longest time that it might be Mr. Chicane, what with how evasive he was about showing Stern the full video and how Stern cannot find a single scrap of information about him online prior to his coming to Kepler. However, in the full video, as clear as day, is Ned walking around in what is seemingly a wookie costume sans mask before the sylph shows up. 

So where does that leave Stern?

Well, he supposes it leaves him without leads in the middle of the forest as the clock continues to tick and tick and tick and tick and tick and tick and tick and tick and tick and tick and tick and tick and-

And then the high pitched wail of a baby rings high and loud in the forest. 

Stern whips his head around to the source of the crying, eyes wide and muscles tense. It echoes from deep within the woods, so far away that a human could not hear. 

He waits a moment.

Maybe it's just a group of hikers?

The crying continues.

Any moment now the baby’s cries will be soothed.

The crying gets louder.

No one would have left a child alone in the woods.

The baby screams.

Stern’s feet are moving before he even registers it and he finds himself sprinting through the forest at speeds that a human should not be able to reach. The branches try to strike his face and catch his clothes, but with quick swipes of his hands, he snaps them off and continues his mad dash through the trees. The quick crunch of snow under his feet coupled with the harsh gasps of his breath snap the forest out of its quiet reverie, but Stern can’t make himself care. If there was ever to risk his secret coming out, this is it. He’s not just going to stand by if a child is in danger. 

Closer and closer he gets and the baby is still wailing as the setting sun begins to burn the world with a bloody red. He’s nearly there, breath coming out hard, and in one smooth motion, he reaches up to the nearest branch, snaps it off, and wields it like a baseball bat as he breaks into the clearing-

-And sees a baby doll propped up against a speaker blasting out the wails of a baby’s cry.

“What the hell?”

“Hey, who's there?”

Whipping around, Stern spies Dale of all people walking out of the woods, gun in hand, covered in a honest to God ghillie suit made all the worse by the fact that he’s still wearing that tan hat of his on top of the fake foliage covering him. 

“Agent Stern?” Dale calls as he mercifully shuts off the speakers. Even from here, Stern can see the sweat streaks in his face paint. “What in the world are you doing? I could’ve shot you!”

“What am I doing? The better question is what are you doing? You can’t just blast the sound of an infant crying in the middle of the woods and not expect people to be alarmed. I thought a child was in danger!”

God, this must be the longest he’s had the displeasure of speaking with Dale in months. Barclay’s been kind enough to help keep the distance between them and seeing as Stern really doesn’t think Barclay’s going to magically appear and sweep Stern away, he’s going to have to deal with this.

“Oh, c’mon now Stern, what do you think I’m doing? I’m trying to lure a Bigfoot. Or was until you started stomping through the forest and probably scared the thing off.”

“Why would a child crying lure a sasquatch?” Stern asks sharply, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Dale doesn’t even give him the respect of looking at him, and instead holsters his gun and starts walking around the small clearing, packing away his equipment. It’s as he fiddles with the speakers that he finally says, “Betting Bigfoot’s a curious creature, it hears a baby crying in the woods, maybe it’ll come and investigate. Or maybe, it’ll come looking for a snack. Who knows.”

Lip curling and knuckles white, Stern tries to calm himself before speaking. “I don’t recall any reports of sasquatches eating humans.”

“Well, maybe you should get better reports then, Stern.”

A branch cracks beneath his heel.

It’s then that the wind changes direction and Stern can’t stop himself from gagging at the rancid smell that hits him square in the face. It’s like feces and rotten fish rolled into one putrid bottle. 

“What in God’s name is that smell?”

Dale glances over his shoulder. “Oh, that? Well, I gotta cover my bases. Need to mask my own scent while mimicking the smell of Bigfoot, hopefully lure it out here. Unfortunately, Bigfoot doesn’t exactly smell like a basket of roses.”

Stern tries not to bristle at that. His sylph form certainly does not smell like whatever filth Dale’s elected to cover himself in, and it's not only because Stern sets aside a few hours every two weeks to wash his sylph form. Even if he didn’t bathe, he could never smell that bad.

It’s insulting. 

“Well, good luck with that,” Stern gets out, words clipped as he walks away. He knows he shouldn’t be rude, that rudeness attracts attention, but he is not in the mood to deal with Dale or any of the other Bigfoot Hunters tonight. He doesn’t have the time nor the patience. 

“Hold on a second, Stern,” Dale suddenly calls as he stands up and crosses the clearing. “Look, I know you and I don’t always see eye to eye on our methods, but I want you to know that I really admire you.”

Stern blinks. “Oh, ah, thank you?”

“Yeah, like you got this passion, this . . . drive to you. Really something else. I can tell you really want to find Bigfoot and we need more people like that in the field.”

This is . . . This is not where Stern saw this conversation going. 

“That is very kind of you to say.”

“Yeah and I mean,” Dale pauses and locks eyes with Stern. “Not many folks are passionate enough about finding Bigfoot that they’d pretend to be an FBI agent.”

They say that the two instincts in the face of danger are fight or flight, but that’s not correct. There’s a third one-

Freeze.

“Cause you gotta have some real passion for the cause, otherwise, you might get spooked at the three years jail time for impersonating a federal officer.” Dale whistles and if Stern could move, he’d wince at how loud it screams in his ears. “Guess that doesn’t frighten you, huh Joe?”

Stern swears he opens his mouth, swears he counters with some smart rebuttal, swears he takes a step back too. However, he quickly realises that he’s still just standing there, feet stuck to the forest floor and mouth dry.

_ This isn’t happening. _

“Oh don’t be bummed out, you put on a pretty good show. Really had me duped there, certainly still got all the others wrapped up in your little charade. But not me. Not anymore.”

“I-” Stern manages to push out, hands hanging limply at his sides as they just barely begin to shake. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dale tsks and adjusts his hat. “Yeah yeah, course you don’t. Look, why don’t we skip the part where we go back and forth on how you’re most certainly a bonafide FBI agent and here’s your badge to prove it, hmm? I’m a busy man and I got places to be tonight.”

“But I really am an FBI agent.”

Another sigh. “Look, I did my due diligence, tried looking you up, see what I could find. You know what I found?”

He does.

“No, I don’t.”

“I found nothing. Not a single scrap of evidence that you exist.” Stern opens his mouth to reply, to say anything to get this to stop, but Dale continues on. “And before you come up with some half-baked lie about how you don’t believe in technology or some shit like that, I decided to call up one of my buddies at UP. Like I said Stern, I’m a pretty big deal over there. That’s what happens when you’re the Bigfoot Tracking King of Willow Creek. Anyways, I asked him if he knew anyone named Stern and he told me no, he didn’t.”

If someone took the time to check his heart rate at that moment, they would probably mistake him for a human.

“Oh don’t worry, I didn’t rat you out. Not yet at least.”

And Stern thinks about still denying everything or of running away from Kepler and praying they never find him. However, denying it seems pointless and even if he did run away, he only has four months left anyways. Running away isn’t an option.

“What do you want?” He asks softly, eyes trained on the forest floor.

Dale grins.

“Well, the thing is, I’m betting people give you way more information and way more access to stuff around here when you flash that badge of yours. Information they would never give me. So here’s the deal, you give me all the information you have on Bigfoot and all the information you get in the future. Do that, and nobody has to know that you’re not an FBI agent.”

Stern’s breath stutters in his throat. If he gives over all his information, what if that helps Dale find the sylph before he does? What if he figures everything out? What if he turns him in anyway? He can’t, he just can’t, there must be something, anything he can do.

At his silence, Dale sighs and adjusts his hat. “I ever tell you what I used to do before this? Before trying to find Bigfoot?” His tone is too casual, too conversational and it makes Stern’s stomach churn. “I was a hunter, guess I still am, but these were just your average everyday animals. Well,” he laughs at his own little inside joke. “Maybe not your  _ everyday _ animals. These were rhinos, lions, elephants, even a bald eagle once. And I know what people tend to say, that the most exhilarating part is the kill.” Dale starts walking towards him, the stench of death following right behind him. “I have to disagree though.” And as the sun sets at Stern’s back, the red light drips down Dale’s face as he approaches. Stern knows his own face must be drenched in shadow and sweat. “No, to me the best part is when the animal realises its trapped. And you  _ can _ tell, trust me.”

He takes a step.

“Their eyes are wide.”

And another.

“Breath goes heavy.”

Dale couldn’t be more than a foot away from Stern.

“The limbs are all shaking.”

His eyes examine him as he stares up.

“It’s the look of something that knows you’ve bested it.”

And then he smiles.

“So, what do you say? Are you going to help me?”

And Stern wants to say no. He urges his mouth to form the word, pleads for his muscles to shake his head no, begs his legs to take a step back and away from Dale and the stench and his smile and everything.

But Stern often does not get what he wants.

“Yes. I’ll help you.”

“Perfect!” Dale calls out and somewhere nearby, a flock of birds takes flight. He starts walking back towards where he packed up his equipment. “Think this is gonna be a really great partnership. And who knows,” He heaves the bag over his shoulder. “With your help, I might even have a bullet between Bigfoot’s eyes by the end of the year.”

And then he walks away, not even bothering to look at Stern as he calls over his shoulder that he’ll be by tomorrow to get copies of all his work. Or maybe he did look at him while he said it and Stern just hadn’t registered it ‘til he was long gone, leaving Stern standing in the center of the clearing, sweat dripping down his face despite the cold. 

He’s fucked. He’s absolutely fucked. Why did he have to say he was an FBI agent? How could he be such an idiot? How could he be so careless? Dale holds his life in his hands and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

And as he looks down at his own hands, Stern realises that he’s still holding the branch he snapped off the tree. But now, splintering cracks run up and down the wood, originating from where he held it in his hand.

But that doesn’t matter as Stern lets a scream rip through him as he hurls the branch and it shatters into a million pieces against the trunk of a tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never really had an antagonist in a fic before so writing Dale's dialogue was very fun. Also, the whole crying baby thing is an actual thing I saw on a bigfoot hunting show and I just had to put it in because its such a wild concept, like if any hikers are coming by they're gonna be pretty spooked by a baby wailing in the night


	8. Powdered Sugar and Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a terrible night for both Barclay and Stern, they both need to get away.

Barclay wouldn't say he is storming out of the lodge, storming implies far more anger and purpose than Barclay thinks he's capable of at the moment.

No, Barclay is most certainly fleeing.

The wide-eyed staring and slightly parted lips of the other sylphs as they watch Barclay, sweet, helpful, composed Barclay who just  _ raised his voice at his best friend,  _ he can't take it.

And a part of him wants to go back and apologize, to say he didn't mean it.

But the other half of him, the half of him that reminds him how his own friends don't trust his judgement, don't trust him, well, it keeps him walking towards the door

How could Mama not have told him that she was planning on finding Thacker? How long had she been making these plans? Is that what she was doing with all those sketches in her workshop that she would never let him see? How long did she lie to him?

But worst of all, Mama put her life in danger and Barclay could have helped! Even if he hadn't come with her, he still knows Sylvain like the back of his hand. He grew up outside the city, he faced the corruption head on. And of course Mama’s more than capable of handling herself, but still, why wouldn’t she have asked even a single sylph for advice?

And then whatever thought that was going to come next is interrupted as he reaches for the front door handle only to have to immediately step back as the door swings at him.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry-”

“Shit, sorry I’m-”

Standing in the doorway is Stern, but Barclay has to do a double-take at him. His shoulders are hunched, slightly shaking, and his gaze doesn’t reach past the lenses of his glasses.

He looks like a stranger.

Barclay never thought the image of Agent Stern positively downtrodden would hit him so hard, but at the tightness in his chest, the next words out of his mouth don’t even need a second thought before he says them.

“You wanna go for a drive?”

He wants to get out of here, to clear his head, and from the looks of it, Stern needs that too. 

It takes a few seconds for Stern to respond, like he’s barely registering Barclay’s talking to him. He blinks and when he finally breaks through the barrier of his glasses to actually  _ see _ Barclay, something in his gaze softens and he practically whispers out, “Please.” The word mixing together with his breath.

“Great, let’s uh- Let’s go then, yeah?”

Stern nods and the two of them quickly make their way to Barclay’s car, the snow melting under their feet. They don’t speak as they buckle in, nor when they pull out of the parking lot as the blinds rustle in the windows.

In fact, even as they speed down Highway 92 out of town, racing away from the sun as it dips below the horizon, neither of them say a single word to the other. The way Stern fiddles with his watch and worries his lip, Barclay’s lead foot as he brakes, and how his hair has started falling out of his bun from how many times he runs his hands through it, well it reveals far more than words ever could. 

Maybe more than Barclay wants it to. 

Looking at the mile marker first, Barclay hits a button on his dash and the radio springs to life. He doesn’t recognize the song. Not like he’d sing along if he did though. 

“I didn’t realise we were that far out of town,” Stern finally comments, glancing away from the window, voice hoarse.

“Oh uh, yeah. Guess we are. Probably should head back, right?”

“We probably should. I have to ah, I have to go through my reports and make duplicates. To send to my superiors.”

“Yeah and I . . . Well, there’s some changes to the Lodge we were discussing that I should probably get back and see to.”

“That sounds important, I would hate to keep you from your work.”

“Well I mean,” Barclay glances in the rearview mirror. “My stuff can wait ‘til morning. It’s more that your stuff sounds pretty important. Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with the boss or anything.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Barclay just sees Stern sharply turn his head. “Oh please, we don’t have to turn back on my account. It’s really tomorrow that my reports have to be in by anyways.”

The song on the radio fades away and a new tune takes up its place.

“Well then, if it's all the same to you, I’m good with just . . . Driving. You know?”

“That sounds perfect, honestly.”

So that’s what they continue doing. No destination in mind. Just driving as the dark settles in around them. They chat idly as they go, Barclay pointing out good restaurants they pass, Stern telling little stories about places he’s been to across the country.

It’s nice.

It’s also a nice distraction.

But it’s also just nice. 

“So at this point, I’m ankle-deep in mud, my car is completely stuck, and I’m still wearing a shirt that reads ‘Super Star’ and those god awful of gas-station pyjama pants with the cartoon beaver.”

Barclay tries not to laugh, or really, he had  _ tried _ not laughing when the story started. However, at this point, it’s pretty fruitless and Barclay allows deep belly laughs to bounce around the car as Stern joins in with a few chuckles as he makes his way through the story. “Oh, I had forgotten about the pants,” Barclay manages as the car climbs a hill. “Please tell me you still have them.”

“Barclay, I didn’t even want them when I purchased them, why would I have kept them, let alone after they became drenched in mud and motor oil? Anyway, so I see the headlights of another car coming from the-” And whatever Stern was going to say next is cut off as they pass over the crest of the hill and see nestled in the valley below the bright flashing lights of a carnival off the side of the road.

“Huh, bit late in the year for a carnival, don’t you think?” Barclay asks, letting his eyes rest on the lights breaking up the dark for just a moment before returning to the road. “Not that folks ‘round here have ever let a bit of cold stop them before.”

“Are they fun?”

Barclay cocks his head and risks a quick glance over to Joseph, who is gazing out the window at the little carnival, the ferris wheel rising high into the air. “What?”

“Carnivals. Are they fun?” Joseph repeats, finally tearing his eyes from the window to look over to Barclay.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Barclay thinks for a moment. “I mean, I’ve been to ‘em, but not for fun. I uh, I took a bunch of odd jobs before I came to Amnesty. One time ended up at working for a few days at a travelling carnival, manning the fryer at this little booth. Co-workers were nice, so it wasn’t half-bad. Not like the time I worked as a night-cook at this little diner down in Pasadena, that was the worst. But uh, yeah, never actually been as a patron I guess.” He pauses for a moment. “Wait, have  _ you _ never been to a carnival?”

Stern shakes his head. “No, I haven’t.”

And then Barclay gets an idea. Maybe a bad idea. Or a silly one. Or one slightly motivated by the want deep in his gut to keep this night going as long as possible, to keep Stern by his side, to see him laugh under the moonlight.

Fuck, Barclay has it bad.

Not that he’s going to do anything about it.

It’s like . . . Well, it's like standing at a ledge, looking down at the bottom far below. Sure, he can peek over, imagine what it would be like to jump in without a care. But he doesn’t. Instead, he just tiptoes around the edge and gets those same butterflies in his stomach that he would get if he threw caution to the wind and leapt.

But this? Well, this isn’t jumping, it’s just . . . Sticking a toe over the edge.

“Do you want to go?”

Barclay can’t see Stern’s face in that moment as he stares at the road in front of him, but he imagines the little lines that form between his brows when he’s thinking something over or how he chews on his lips, making them turn a nice dark, dusty pink . . .

Alright so maybe he’s got more than a toe over the edge.

“Go to the carnival?”

“Hey, why not? It’s just . . . Well, everything’s been a lot lately. So don’t know about you, but I think I could use a night off to just eat some greasy carnival food and take a couple spins on the ferris wheel. I mean, if you’re up for it?” 

And in the time it takes for Barclay to pass by a sign for the upcoming exit, Stern turns to him with a bright smile on his face. “I’d love to.”

With that, Barclay takes the exit and after only a few minutes, they find themselves standing in the chilled night air, the remnants of snow crunching underneath their feet as they purchase a roll of tickets and head in. 

“So,” Stern starts as they pass by an array of booths. The sounds from the rides and general jumble of the other guests talking around them and the attendants trying to lure passersby to come play their games, it’s such a difference from the Lodge, from Kepler, but Barclay finds himself reveling in it. “You know more about carnivals than me, where should we begin?”

“Hmm, well we’re definitely gonna have to grab some food at some point, got some thoughts on stuff you might like. But first, I think some carnival games are in order.”

Stern’s step falters for a moment. “Are those . . . Are those not for children? Won’t people, I don’t know, stare at two grown men playing them?”

“Eh, not really. Lots of adults play ‘em. Let’s them win prizes for their dates or show their friends up. Speaking of,” Barclay gestures over to a game of darts. “You prepared to lose?”

“Lose?” Stern grins and actually starts to take off his peacoat. “I think you’ll find that you’ll be the one losing. I have excellent hand-eye coordination.”

“If you say so.”

The two of them make their way over to a balloon popping game and Stern slides the attendant the required tickets. “Alright Barclay, let’s see these amazing dart skills, hmm?”

Barclay doesn’t reply, instead sending Stern a little smirk as he picks up one of the five darts, winding his arm back, and then bringing it forward as he lets go of the dart . . .

And then watches as he essentially spikes it into the ground. 

“Oh my . . .” Joseph quickly claps his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound of his little ‘snnrks’ and chuckles. “That was . . .That was a valiant attempt.”

“Hey, that was just the warm up,” Barclay counters, barely containing his own smile. “This one’s for real.”

And while that one might have been for real, it was also  _ really _ off target.

“Alright, alright,” Joseph starts as he stops laughing. “I’m now obligated to help you, otherwise this will just be cruel.” And then he walks over to Barclay’s side, standing close enough that Barclay doesn’t just see the hot puffs of breath in the air, but can feel them too. “So your main problem is that you’re not following through when you throw. Keep your grip light and your weight evenly distributed between your feet, then, just bring your arm up at a ninety-degree angle in front of you, line up your shot, and then make sure you don’t stop your arm too soon. Then you should be good to go.”

Barclay blinks. That was a lot to take in and remember, especially with Stern standing so close . . . But he tries not to think about that as he adjusts his stance, picks up another dart, and throws it.

And well, it doesn’t hit the balloon but it also doesn’t lodge itself in the ground or the attendant’s foot, so Barclay counts it as a win. And Stern? Well, by how he shakes his head, eyes crinkling up as he smiles, he might not see it the same way.

“That was better, but you need to be looking in the general area where you want it to hit. Here, let me-” And then Stern brings up his hands and is millimeters away from touching Barclay’s arm before he pauses. “Oh ah, do you- Is it alright if I ah, touch you? Just to show you where to position your hands?”

“Uhh, yeah? Yeah. Thanks. Sounds good.”

Fuck, he’s smooth.

In response, Stern just nods and slowly brings up his hands to Barclay’s arm. And then, as both their breaths mingle in the cold air, his fingers gently wrap around Barclay’s wrist, like he’s holding some priceless vase, and then ever so slowly, adjusts his position. 

It feels almost too nice.

And then just as fast, Stern lets him go and steps back as he clears his throat. “Well ah, there you go. That should be better now.”

Barclay nods slowly, the feeling of Stern’s hands on his arm still lingering. He can only imagine the flush rising to his cheeks. Hopefully he can blame it on the wind. However, this time when Barclay flings the dart, it is immediately followed by the loud bang of the balloon popping.

“Hey! Would you look at that? Seems like you’re a pretty good teacher, Joe.”

“Perhaps. Now if you can get this last one without my help, then maybe I’ll know you learned something.”

Well now, with something to prove, how can Barclay fail? So this time, with the phantom feeling of Stern’s hands on him, Barclay squares up, brings his arm back, aims, and then follows through as he throws the dart with all his might. 

And when the balloon pops, and Agent Joseph Stern, FBI, lets out a little undignified whoop of joy and Barclay decides he’s never been more glad that he’s not good at darts.

“Well, now that I’ve proved my talent at darts, think it's your turn Agent.” 

“Hmm, alright then . . .” And then Stern gets a glint in his eye as he picks up the darts, gets into position, takes a breath, the silver of his watch shining under the rainbow lights before it becomes a blur as five balloons pop in rapid succession.

_ Holy shit _ .

That was . . .

Damn.

Guess he wasn’t lying when he said he has good hand-eye coordination.

Barclay lets out a low whistle as he saddles up to Stern’s side. “This where you tell me they train you in darts down at the FBI? ‘Cause if so, that’s cheating and I win by default.”

For a second, Joseph doesn’t respond, just stares until he’s jolted from his thoughts. “Oh! Ah, no. No dart training for me. Now, I will say that there was a dartboard in my home growing up that I spent far too much time practicing with.”

Then, before Barclay can think of some witty response, the booth attendant comes by and in an extremely bored tone of voice asks, “Okay, which prize do you want, sir?”

Joseph balks like a deer in headlights. “Oh, I don’t want- That wasn’t, um- That one, please,” he gets out as he points up at a random prize without looking at it. 

If he had just pointed slightly to the left, he would have gotten a Minions toy and by Sylvain Barclay would have loved to see Joseph’s face if the attendant had handed him a Minion plush.

But no, the prize Joseph is handed is a small reddish-brown teddy bear and you know what? The face he makes in that moment is infinitely better than what Barclay could have imagined because he honestly looks like he was just handed an alien and not a toy. “I don’t . . . I don’t know what to do with this.”

“That’s your hard-won prize,” Barclay says, trying to keep the teasing in his voice to a minimum. “Guess you can do whatever you want with it.”

Glancing between the bear and Barclay, Stern hesitates a moment before holding out the prize to him. “Then here. It’s for you.”

It’s Barclay’s turn to look like he’s being handed an alien, or well, a different alien than he’s used to. “That’s not what I . . . Thanks. You know what this means though, right?”

Stern cocks his head. “What?”

“Means I gotta win you a prize now, too.”

“Oh no, no you really don’t have to do that,” Stern rushes to say as Barclay begins scouting out a place to win Stern a prize. “Please, if you win me a fish, I don’t know what I would even do with it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t win you a fish.” He scans across the row of games and at the end of the aisle, spots a strength game and can’t help but smile. “Here, I might not be the greatest at darts, but this I think I can manage.”

They stroll over through the crowd and once they hand the attendant the tickets, Barclay turns to Stern. “You wanna take the first swing?”

“Seeing as I made you go first last time, it seems only fair.” Joseph steps up to where the massive hammer is leaned up against the game. From the people in front of them in line, the hammer seems like it might be a bit heavy. With the bell at one-hundred, the five people they saw go before them couldn’t get it past fifty. And Stern . . . Well Stern doesn’t seem like the strongest guy around. Yeah he’s pretty tall, but he’s got nothing on Barclay’s bulk. If he can get it past twenty, Barclay will be impressed.

Heaving the hammer to his shoulder, Stern shoots one last look at Barclay behind him before bringing the hammer high in the air and then arcing it down in a powerful swing, that sends the puck flying up to eighty-five mark.

Barclay will admit that his mouth hangs slightly open.

“Wow,” Barclay breathes out as Stern turns around. “That was . . . Wow. Got some muscles under those suits, huh?”

He leans slightly forward on his toes, preening. “Well, I always have to be prepared, hmm? Now, I do believe it's your turn.”

And whereas before, Barclay considered holding back some of his strength and taking a try or two to reach the bell, the sudden urge to impress Stern sends him up to mark, hammer in hand as he brings it down with an inhuman strength to send the puck skyrocketing up to the bell. And when he turns around, he’s met with the sight of Stern, eyes wide and hands clasped behind his back.

If his cheeks are flushed from the cold or something else, Barclay can’t say.

Quickly picking out a prize, Barclay returns to where Stern stands off to the side. As he approaches, the other man quickly adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. “My, that was  _ extremely _ impressive.”

“Thanks, got lots of practice, chopping wood for the lodge and all that.”

“Oh I’ve seen you out behind the lodge, I have a rather unobstructed view from my room and I can’t imagine the upper body strength that requires.”

Barclay grins and raises his eyebrows.

It only takes a second for the implication to reach Stern. “No, wait. I didn’t mean- I only meant that- I just heard you out there one day and I went out on the veranda to investigate and saw you, but I don’t want you to think-”

“Hey,” Barclay interrupts, hoping his tone is reassuring. “It’s fine, I know what you meant. Glad someone appreciates me out there chopping wood. Oh also, here-” From his coat pocket he pulls a small black owl plush. “Told you I’d win you a prize.”

And honestly, Barclay could have gotten Stern the biggest prizes they had, amongst which included a giant banana and a huge dog. However, Barclay knows that despite being a federal agent trying to find Bigfoot, a job that inherently comes with a lot of attention, Stern hates being the center of attention. And making him carry around a giant plush is really just asking for people to stare, so a tiny owl easily tucked away it was.

“Oh,” Stern takes the owl and gingerly puts it in the inner pocket of his coat. “Thank you. Really.” Then, before Barclay can put a finger on his tone of voice, Stern straightens up and gestures to a booth. “Now, you said you wanted greasy carnival food? It looks like we can get some over there. Would you like some now?”

Barclay nods. “Course. Now have you ever had funnel cake?

“Funnel cake?”

“Yep. You’re gonna love it, it's right up your alley. Really sugary, really sweet, well, not as sweet as your coffee.”

Rolling his eyes with no real heat Stern counters him. “I don’t take my coffee  _ that _ sweet.”

“I’ve seen you dump four packets of sugar and three creamers into your drink.”

This time, Stern huffs but it quickly morphs into a laugh. “Alright, I’ll concede your point.”

With that, they buy an order of funnel cake to share and find a bench to sit on. Above them, string lights provide a soft golden light that bounces off Stern’s black hair and the flashing rainbow lights of the rides reflect in his glasses. Add onto that the face Stern makes when he takes a bite of funnel cake, his eyes shutting, the powdered sugar dappled across his lip, well, Barclay finds himself sitting on the ledge now, his feet dangling over the edge into what could be. 

“So you were certainly right, this is delicious,” Stern says before he takes another bite.

Shrugging, Barclay wipes at his beard that most certainly is covered in sugar and crumbs. “See, knew you would like it.”

“Just as you knew I would love that blueberry pie you made?”

“Yes exactly.” Barclay smiles at the memory. It’s been about a month since he made that first pie and yet Stern still raves about it. And yeah, Barclay knows he’s a good cook, but it never hurts to hear some affirmation.

“Speaking of which,” Stern starts. “Do you need to get back to the Lodge soon? I would hate to keep you out late if you have an early start tomorrow morning or anything.”

Barclay takes a bit longer than necessary to chew and swallow. “Oh. Yeah. The Lodge. I mean, yeah. You’re probably right.”

Taking a moment to look at him, Stern clears his throat. “Please let me know if I’m overstepping, but ah, is everything alright? At the Lodge? I know things must be stressful after Ms. Cobb’s injuries and if there’s anything I can do to make your job easier, I’ll gladly do so.”

And despite himself, Barclay smiles. That’s one thing about Stern that remains a comforting constant throughout his days- He’s always been helpful and polite. Barclay can barely even imagine what he would look like being rude. 

Not for the first time, Barclay wonders what his life would look like if Stern had been less helpful, less polite. If he had been, then this friendship of theirs would have never started in the first place. The tension between Barclay and the Lodge would have never flickered to life. And these feelings that whisper into Barclay’s ear to make the leap into something more, well they would be silent. 

But the thought of never having this with Stern, never sitting here under dark skies, never getting to see past the masks he puts up, never sitting in the warmth of the kitchen as they chat about their days, well, it’s such an unsettling thought that Barclay brushes it off immediately. He can’t put off Stern’s question forever.

“It’s . . . Well first, thank you for the offer. But uh, actually, Mama came back from the hospital today.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I was worried she would be stuck in the hospital well through the holidays. Everyone must be so relieved.”

“Yeah, I mean, seeing her again, it was amazing. Can’t even begin to describe the relief I felt just hearing her voice. I honestly would have done anything these past two weeks to get her out of there, to make sure she was better. But uh,” Barclay pauses, wondering how much he should tell Stern. “She- Well, she broke out of the hospital. Really she should still be there now, but well, that’s Mama for you. Once she’s made up her mind, that’s that.”

And unfortunately, it really seems like she’s made up her mind on Stern, but Barclay can wriggle those worms back into the can later.

“She . . . She really broke out of the hospital?”

“Yep. And as much as I’d rather have her home with us, the thought of her not getting the proper care, of something going wrong, well . . .”

“I can imagine how that would upset you. Is that why you were leaving the Lodge in such a rush?”

Idly picking off a piece of funnel cake, Barclay stares straight ahead, his other hand deep in his coat pocket. How much should he tell Stern? How easily can he dance around the truth while still getting the bigger picture. Should he even bother Stern with his problems? He probably doesn’t want to hear all this, just wants a relaxing night off. At the same time though, who else can Barclay tell? It would feel wrong to vent to one of the other sylphs and from the confrontation in Mama’s office, the Pine Guard would no doubt side with Mama. Besides, he wants to tell Stern. He’s easy to talk to.

“I mean, kinda.” Barclay puts his other hand in his coat pocket. “But also, well there’s a lot, to be honest. I never told you, but Mama didn’t tell anybody before she left. Lied to me actually, told me she was running an errand when she left even though she could have used my help. And Mama’s my best friend and I thought we didn’t lie to each other, didn’t keep secrets. Apparently, that’s not the case though.” Barclay lets his shoulders and head droop as he rests his arms against his legs. “She’s been lying to me for years. Let me think a friend of ours had just abandoned us even though she knew where he was the whole time. Said that she did it to protect me, even though I could have helped. And then,” Barclay continues, feeling like his mouth is a waterspout that he can’t turn off. “She comes back and wants to make all these changes to the Lodge, and sure, I agree with some of them. But others, well, she won’t even listen to my opinion. It’s like she’s forgetting I’ve been running the Lodge single-handedly, like I don’t know what’s good for it, like she doesn’t trust me. And I just-” Barclay sighs. “I don’t even know what to do about it.”

As he sits there, hunched over, Barclay suddenly feels a gentle, tentative, hand rest on his shoulder. It’s far more comforting than it has any right to be. “I’m sorry. That sounds extremely difficult. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have your best friend just suddenly leave. And with the sudden increase in guests, having to do everything by yourself sounds like an arduous task to say the least.”

“Yeah and it’s- It’s fine. I do truly enjoy working at the Lodge, making sure everyone’s taken care of. Just doing the little things to help make people’s lives easier. I mean, lot of folks at the Lodge, they’ve been through a lot. And they’re, well, they’re my family. I’d do anything for them. So giving them a warm meal, making sure everything’s running smoothly, well it's the least I can do. But it’s a lot sometimes, you know? Feels like I’m being pulled in a hundred different directions all the time.”

“And the others, do they know you feel this way?”

“No. The thought of admitting that, of asking for help, it . . . It feels selfish. I mean, don’t know if you know, but Mama- she’s a pretty famous artist. That’s actually how she’s able to keep the Lodge going. So I would hate adding anything else to her plate. And the others, they’ve all got friends and hobbies, and I would hate to pull them away from that to help me. So yeah . . .”

Stern makes a little noise in the back of his throat, his hand still a comforting weight on Barclay’s shoulder. “Hmm, okay. Now please, tell me if I’m overstepping any boundaries, but it seems to me like you and Ms. Cobb are somewhat guilty of the same thing.”

At this, Barclay sits up. “What?”

“Well it’s just, Ms. Cobb lied to you to protect you, yes? Even though she could have used the help, she didn’t want to admit it. Isn’t that what you’re doing as well? You don’t want to trouble the others at the Lodge, so you say you’re fine. And, Barclay, I’m not the best at relationships,” Stern pauses and adjusts his scarf so it hides more of his face. “I usually keep my distance, so I wouldn’t say I’m an expert or anything, but I am observant. And since I arrived at Amnesty Lodge, I’ve observed time and time again how much everyone there loves you. And I would bet anything that they would want to know that you need help. Just as you would have wanted to know that Ms. Cobb needed help.”

And then the two of them sit there in silence as the carnival whirls on around them, a bubble in time that’s just Stern and Barclay on a bench, their funnel cake long forgotten between them and a stuffed teddy bear sitting to Barclay’s left.

Huh.

And that’s the thing about conflict, from the inside it all seems so insurmountainable, a hill they can’t go through and can’t climb. But just seeing a snapshot of it from the outside, well it becomes suddenly apparent how small the hill actually is.

It’s not to say he’s not still mad at Mama, nor that he’s gonna go straight up to the rest of the Lodge and admit that maybe it’s all a bit too much for one sylph to bear. No. That will take time. But still, it puts things into perspective, something Barclay didn’t even know he needed.

And then just as fast, the bubble pops.

“I’m sorry,” the words tumble out of Stern’s mouth. “You didn’t even ask for advice, I was out of place, and like I said, I’m terrible at friendships and I barely even know the other Lodge residents and-”

“Joseph,” Barclay quickly interjects, realising he let the silence linger for too long. “No, you’re- Don’t apologize. You’re right. I- shi,t yeah, you’re right. Thank you.”

“Oh. Uh, well then, you’re welcome.”

And this time when the silence returns, it’s a comfortable silence between them as they eat the rest of their funnel cake. A silence that Barclay would gladly get lost in as long as he got to stay here by Stern’s side.

However, the silence can’t last as Barclay looks up at the carnival and realises there’s one more thing they have to do.

“C’mon,” Barclay says as he stands, brushing the powdered sugar off his pants as he does. “Wouldn’t be right of me to let your first time at a carnival go by without going on a ferris wheel.”

And Stern doesn’t hesitate before smiling and standing too. “Well then, lead the way.”

With the carnival winding down, they don’t have to wait in line long for the ferris wheel and Barclay quickly finds himself sat next to Stern, a million points of contact as they sit pressed against one another.

Oh boy.

Slowly, their capsule begins to rise into the air and the ground and the people milling around down there get smaller and smaller, the dazzling lights from the carnival laid out before them.

“Wow,” Stern breathes. “It’s beautiful.”

Barclay does his best not to glance over to Stern when he replies, “Yeah, sure is.” And then, before they’re even a quarter way up, Barclay actually does turn as best he can to Stern, something the other man had said earlier nagging at him. “Hey, uh, before, you said you weren’t good at relationships. Mind if I ask why?”

“Oh,” the word comes out heavy for such a short thing. He’s almost worried that it alone will weigh down their capsule. “It’s just- my job doesn’t afford me many opportunities to form close bonds with others, I’m usually in a town for only a few days before finding out that what I was searching for was a hoax. And also-” he hesitates, biting his lip. “I didn’t have many friendships growing up, so I understand that my social skills are not the most adept.”

Barclay blinks. Stern doesn’t talk much about his childhood and Barclay feels his chest grow heavy. “I don’t think so.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t think you’re bad at relationships. You keep me company and you’re a great listener and tell some truly great stories, you’re kind and smart, you never hesitate to help out. Personally, I think anyone would be lucky to call you their friend.”

Stern opens his mouth, but quickly closes it as he swallows, his face flushed a deep red. “I . . . Thank you. That’s, that’s extremely kind. But, maybe not entirely true. That day when your car battery was dead, I nearly didn’t go over to see if you needed assistance. I did hesitate.”

“But you still came and helped. That’s what matters. And I’m glad you did, not just because you fixed my car, but because it meant, well, it started the ball rolling on me getting to know you.”

By this point, they’re easily halfway up to the peak of the ferris wheel.

“Barclay . . .” Stern breathes and he watches as it forms a little cloud in the air. “I’m glad I got to know you too, because . . . Because even if I don’t find Bigfoot, even if I fail my mission . . . I still got to meet you and that alone will make coming to Kepler worth it.”

Now, they’ve nearly reached the top of the ferris wheel.

Barclay glances at Stern’s lips.

The ground is more of a memory at this point.

Stern’s eyes dart to Barclay’s mouth.

The forest slips away beneath them.

Barclay leans forward.

No one can see them all the way up here.

Stern mirrors his movements.

And together, they reach the top of the ferris wheel, just as Barclay’s lips touch Joseph’s, just as the lingering taste of powdered sugar reaches his lips, just as Joseph’s fingers cup Barclay’s cheek, just as Barclay throws caution to the wind and leaps.

Because all of that? The consequences and the future and what this means, those are problems for when they touch back down on the ground. But while they’re up here? With flakes of snow just starting to drift down around them? Well up here, all that matters is the soft feeling of Stern’s lips against his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I knew from the begining that I wanted the two of them to go to a carnival, but as I was writing the fic, I realiesd that this chapter is set in November and that there probably wouldn't be any carnivals at that time of year. So I nearly changed this whole chapter before I realised that if I can go in an make Stern Bigfoot, I can make a carnival happen in November. So yeah, live your writing dreams and dont let 'logic' stop you!


	9. One More Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barclay and Stern go on their first official date and its a great decision. No really. There's no way this could go wrong. Stern's sure of it. Definetly.

_ Clink. _

Should Stern sneak out the window?

_ Clink. _

Maybe make a mad dash for his car?

_ Clink. _

He’ll just tell Barclay something came up at work.

_ Clink. _

But then he’d be upset . . .

_ Clink. _

Taking a short sip of his water to make himself stop tapping the glass more than anything else, Stern tries to convince himself for the twenty-eighth time that this is a bad idea. 

Because, kissing Barclay at the carnival? Probably not Stern’s brightest idea. But, honestly, how can he be blamed? What with Barclay pressed up against his side, powdered sugar still clinging to his beard, that twinkle in his eye as he told Stern how amazing he is, Stern’s surprised he made it to the top of the ferris wheel before kissing him. And yes, that could have been due to the heat of the moment, a temporary lapse in judgement that wouldn’t happen again.

Now riding the ferris wheel three more times? And having a repeat performance each time? Well perhaps the heat of the moment took longer to cool than anyone anticipated

But it didn’t end there! No! Stern nearly fell asleep on the ride home! With Barclay right next to him! He can’t even remember the last time he allowed himself to fall asleep in front of another person. Even when he was younger and he would go out and find some handsome man to spend the night with, he still would sneak away before even the barest hints of tiredness would reach him. What if someone tried to take off his watch while he slept? He can’t risk that! But with Barclay . . . He’s just so comforting, so easy to talk to, to let his defenses down around . . .

And that’s extremely bad for Stern.

Because letting his defenses down around others? That’s how people find out that he’s Bigfoot. That’s how he ends up on the run from the very agents he’s pretending to be one of. 

So really, Stern should stop all of this before it gets too far. Besides, his search is still turning up nothing and now with Dale of all people dangling his FBI secret over his head, pursuing a relationship is the last thing he needs.

All of which means that Stern shouldn’t be here. He should leave before Barclay arrives. Or maybe Barclay’s late because he’s not coming? Maybe he regrets kissing Stern at the carnival? Maybe he wishes he hadn’t accepted Stern’s invitation to dinner?

Stern’s stomach twists along with the napkin in his hand.

No. No, he  _ can’t _ think about how desperately he wants to pursue a relationship with Barclay or he’ll lose his nerve. He . . . He can’t. He just can’t. It would be such a reckless violation of principle three that Stern can hardly stand the thought. Besides, it would be dishonest of him to date Barclay without the other man knowing he’s Bigfoot. Honestly, how would Stern feel if he was a human being unknowingly dating an alien? Pretty bad! Well, unless it was Barclay . . .

Sweet, handsome, amazing Barclay . . .

Stern quickly shakes his head.

And yes, the thought of calling off their date makes Stern’s throat dry. Not to mention how unappealing the idea of sitting in his room alone all night is instead of sitting across from Barclay, hearing his laugh and his stories, or maybe if he’s lucky, sitting next to each other . . . Barclay’s large, warm hand resting atop his own . . .

No.

No he can’t.

No matter how much he wants this.

It’s too risky.

And he only has a few months left . . .

“Would you like me to refill your water, sir?”

Stern does his best to smoothly transition to an easy smile from the slightly startled jump at the waiter appearing at Stern’s table. He hadn’t even realised how much he had been gulping it down as he waited. “Oh, that would be lovely, thank you.”

As the waiter pours from the pitcher, Stern watches on as the ice tumbles and clinks around the glass like the thoughts in his head. 

He only has a few months left and one of three things will happen in that time. One: He finds the other sylph and convinces them to share their crystal and he gets to live. Two: He doesn’t find the sylph and he slowly loses his humanity before ultimately dying. Three: He does find the sylph but they refuse to share their crystal and so Stern still ends up dying.

But he doesn’t like to think about options two and three. He wants to remain optimistic. He  _ has _ to remain optimistic to keep on going. So, option one it is. He  _ is  _ going to find the other sylph, they  _ are  _ going to share their crystal and when that happens, Stern will have to stay in Kepler. And if Stern is staying in Kepler, well that means he could continue seeing Barclay.

As for the whole ‘Being Bigfoot’ situation, well . . . He’ll cross that bridge later.

All of which means that this date is fine. 

All of which means Stern can stop eyeing up possible escape routes.

All of which means that as Stern glances up at the door and sees Barclay’s large frame slipping inside, the fluttering in his stomach is from excitement and not nervousness.

Okay, so maybe a little nervousness.

“So sorry I’m late,” Barclay rushes to say as he sits down and starts undoing his scarf and shrugs off his coat, revealing a nice button-up underneath. The idea that Barclay dressed up for their date sends Stern reaching for his water, not wanting to be grinning like a fool only a few seconds in. “Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Oh it’s fine, really. No need to apologise, I wasn’t waiting long at all. I did go ahead and order us some wine, I ah, I remember you mentioning that you rather liked Zinfandel. I hope I picked well.”

“Zinfandel? Man after my own heart.” Stern does his best not to preen to much at this. “Wonder what pork and chicken dishes they got, they pair great with Zinfandel.”

And as Barclay reaches for the menu, he pauses and looks up at Stern. “You look really good. Blue suits you.”

And it's not so much the words as it is the warmth behind them that sends Stern to fidget with his glasses. “Oh ah, thank you. I didn’t want to just be wearing the same old suit you see me in everyday or anything.”

“Hey, I happen to like that ‘old suit’. Only person I know that can pull off a three-piece as an everyday look.”

Oh dear, they’re only a few minutes in and the tips of Stern’s ears are probably going to permanently stuck red. What’s the rest of the date going to look like? Clearing his throat, Stern tries to divert the attention off himself. “You also look very good. I don’t know how you get your hair into a bun as intricate as that, but it looks amazing.”

“Thanks, honestly just takes practice. Took me ages to even figure out how to do a bun.”

And then their waiter comes by and their conversation is put on the back burner as they’re read the day’s special and the waiter’s recommendations. Once they’re again alone, or well, as alone as they can be tucked away in a corner of a bustling restaurant, Stern forces himself to not fidget with his watch and instead leans forward in his seat and asks, “So, were things busy at the Lodge tonight? As I was leaving, I passed by a rather large group coming in. I hope things weren’t too hectic?”

“Honestly, hectics one way to put it. Tried slipping away from the Lodge early, but out of nowhere we got this huge dinner rush. That’s the thing about the winter season, we might not get as many tourists as here in Snowshoe, but we still get ‘em and what with us being pretty close to some of the ski trails, people like to head on down after they’ve worked up an appetite.” 

Glancing around at the rather full restaurant, Stern asks, “Worse or better than this crowd?”

“Oh, way better than this. Trust me, the day we manage to get this type of crowd is the day everybody’s getting sandwiches cause there’s no way I could feed all these folks. Honestly, bit surprised you managed to get a reservation here, ‘specially on such short notice.”

Stern shrugs. “There was a cancellation and they were able to squeeze us in. Besides, I had backup plans if this didn’t work out, there are plenty of fine restaurants here. Far more than there would have been if we were in Kepler.”

Glancing down at the table, Barclay chews the inside of his cheek as he draws his fingers through water droplets on the side of his glass. “Yeah, I- Sorry ‘bout that. Know that must’ve been an odd request, to go somewhere outside Kepler.”

“Not particularly, I just assumed you wanted a change of scenery for the night. Is that-” Stern tilts his head. “Was there another reason?”

“Yeah, I mean, partly. It’s, well I was gonna talk to you about this later, but uh, no time like the present, right?” Barclay manages out a weak laugh. “So, look, Joseph, I really like you, but uh . . .”

Oh god.

Oh god oh no oh god.

Guess there was no reason for his internal conflict, because Barclay really is breaking this off before it even begins. Are they going to continue with dinner after this? Oh no, he’s going to have to interact with Barclay tomorrow and God it’s going to be terrible and this is all awful and why did he ever-

“But, I was wondering how you’d feel about keeping all this, well, I guess secret?”

Stern blinks, once, twice, three times.

“A secret?”

“Yeah,” Barclay says, the word long and thin in his mouth. “Not- Not forever. Just for the beginning. I’m not, well, dating guests is pretty frowned upon and with everything else going on between me and Mama at the moment, I’m gonna need some time to broach the subject. And I know this isn’t ideal,” Barclay quickly tacks on. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re some dirty secret, that I’m ashamed or anything like that because I can see how-”

“Barclay, Barclay,” Stern finally cuts him off after comprehending what the other man was saying. “It’s fine. Really. If you need to keep this,” he gestures between them. “-a secret, then I completely understand. I would hate for this to cause further strain between you and Ms. Cobb, so really, whatever you need, just let me know.” Then, Stern reaches his hand out across the table, but doesn’t take Barclay’s. Instead, he just leaves it there, an offer that Barclay can choose to engage with if he wants. 

Letting out a long breath, fingers splayed across the table, Barclay’s shoulders drop. “Thank you so much for understanding. I do wanna tell the others, eventually, but at the moment, it just seems like the wrong time.”

And despite everything, Stern feels little buds of warmth blossom in his chest that yes, Barclay already wants this to continue beyond just a kiss or three and a single date.

“Of course, and ah, speaking of which, you and Ms. Cobb, have you spoken with her yet?”

Barclay swallows a large gulp of water. “Uh, no. Not yet.”

A single eyebrow raise is all it takes to prompt Barclay to continue.

“I don’t know, just seems like she’s avoiding me. Mainly she’s just been out in her workshop and the others, well they’re doing their best not to bring up the argument. I know she’s mad at me, and hell, I can’t say I’m not mad at her too. I just, I can’t make myself go knock on her door.”

“It’s only been a few days since the argument, I’m sure Ms. Cobb’s been busy readjusting to being back at the Lodge. Or maybe she wants to give you space?”

“Yeah, probably.”

For just a moment, Stern worries that the downtrodden look on Barclay’s face will remain in place the rest of the night, but then, the corners of his eyes crinkle up along with his lips as Barclay reaches out and intertwines his hand with Stern’s where it rests on the table, his thumb tracing invisible little patterns across his skin and sending a pleasant shuder up his spine. “Here, enough talk about all that. Don’t want our first date to be all doom and gloom. Much rather sit here and enjoy your company, eat some good food, all that good stuff.”

And right then, any worries that Stern had that all of this is a bad idea, that he shouldn't dare trying pursue anything with Barclay, that it will all end in disaster, those worries are the ones that escape out the window, not him. So Stern picks up his wine glass and holds it out, “Well then, to an evening of great food and better company, hmm?”

“Of course.”

And as the  _ clink  _ rings out as they tap their glasses together, Stern breathes a sigh of relief. He may not know what the future holds for him, but he knows what the night holds, and honestly?

It’s looking pretty good.


	10. Break The Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barclay and Stern take to the ice as they continue to hide their relationship.

“Actually, I take it back. This is a terrible idea and we should leave immediately.”

Barclay lets out a hearty laugh as Stern remains firmly on the bench, making absolutely no attempt to stand up on his ice skates. “Babe, don’t worry. You’ll do great. Just gotta get out on the ice, get the feel of it.”

“All I’m going to  _ get the feel of _ is my face on the ice. Honestly, how are you even remaining upright at the moment?”

“I’ve got practice. The Lodge usually goes out ice skating every winter, and I’m way better at this than skiing. Now c’mon,” Barclay holds out his hand for Stern to grab. “Promise I won’t let you fall.”

“Hmm, alright then. Though I’m holding you to that promise.” Stern grabs his hand and wobbles to his feet. “Is ther- Oh lord- Is there a trick to this? Because this honestly seems impossible.”

“Just gotta keep your balance.”

“Just keep my balance, hmm? Is that all?” Stern playfully rolls his eyes. “With advice like this, I’m sure I’ll reach the Olympics in no time.”

“Oh, hush,” Barclay teases, tacking on a kiss to the end that Stern happily leans into. “You ready?”

“With you by my side, how could I not be?”

And instead of trying to come up with something even as half as smooth as that, Barclay swallows and glances down at Stern’s wrist. “Oh, you wanna take your watch off? Would hate to see it crack if you fall.” 

“Oh ah, no. No, thank you. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, I thought you said you wouldn’t let me fall?”

“That I did and I never break a promise,” he holds out his hand to him. “If you’re sure, let’s go.” And with that, he steps onto the ice, keeping his hold on Stern steady as he follows right behind him. There are more people on the ice than Barclay would have liked for Stern’s first time, throngs of families and tourists gliding across the frozen lake as their colorful scarves flutter behind them in the breeze. Again, Kepler probably would have been less crowded, but Snowshoe offers them the anonymity they need and there’s basically no chance of anyone from the Lodge stumbling across them.

Because yeah, Barclay still hasn’t told the Lodge. Still hasn’t talked to Mama about . . . Well, everything.

He will.

Just not today.

Today is for holding Stern’s hand as they essentially scoot across the ice. 

“Oh- This is- Okay- I can’t be doing this right.”

“Here, don’t look down at your feet, and try not to lean back, that’s the fastest way to end up falling.”

Stern follows his instructions diligently, but is still more letting Barclay’s momentum carry him forward than actually going forward on his own.

“Okay, you’re getting it. Now, just like you’re walking, try picking up one foot and then using that to propel you forward.”

“Counter proposal: I keep both my feet on the ice and refrain from falling on my face.”

“Hmm, you learn these master negotiating skills at the FBI?”

“Not quite.” And then although Stern opens his mouth, no words come out and he quickly shakes his head. “Alright, so I just pick up my foot? Is that really all?”

“Yep, you’re gonna pick it up, then push off with it. Remember though, you’re gonna want your knees slightly bent, feet about shoulder width apart. Basically, you’re trying to keep your weight centered over your skates. And remember,” he gives a quick squeeze to his hand. “I won’t let go.”

Stern nods again, and when he chances a glance at Barclay, his eyes are filled with a hard determination, a familiar determination, a determination which ignites when Stern starts on one of his crossword puzzles or sets out into town for another round of interviews. A determination which seems to dare the world to try going against him, to dare push him down because he’ll get right back up again.

A determination that Barclay loves.

And then, while Barclay’s thoughts swirl up with the snow settled on the pines, Stern picks up his foot, makes a mangled, high whine in the back of his throat, before bringing his skate back down and pushing off, sending him gliding across the ice, hand still intertwined with Barclay’s.

“Good job!”

“Oh, that was . . . That wasn’t that bad.”

“Now, think you can do that again?”

“As long as you allow me to keep holding your hand, then yes.”

And for the next hour, Stern slowly but surely gets the hang of skating. The two of them keep to the outside of the lake, trying to avoid those milling around on the ice. There are a few near falls, but through sheer perseverance and a strong grip on Barclay’s hand, Stern manages to remain upright.

It’s honestly perfect.

“You know,” Stern starts at they begin another lap around the lake. “This is- This is really nice. Thank you for taking me here.”

“Anytime, Joseph. Well, maybe not anytime. Give this lake a few months and it's gonna be a lot more liquid than solid. But I’m sure there’s an indoor rink around here somewhere. You know, if you’re still here in the summer.”

As they skate, Stern nearly fumbles and Barclay is quick to steady him. “Ah, yes. If I’m still around when summer comes, I’d love that. Also,” He quickly moves across the ice and across that conversation. “Another reason I enjoy this is because, well, I don’t necessarily appreciate people staring at me. Ever since I was a child, it makes me, to be honest, nervous to be the point of nauseation.”

“I’m sorry. That sounds terrible.”

“It’s fine, I’ve learned to handle it. It’s just that, to be quite frank, I was honestly worried the sight of two men holding hands would draw more attention than I would like, but ah,” Stern gestures out with his free hand across the lake. Out of the dozens and dozens of people there, no one bats an eye at the two of them. “It seems my assumptions about the area are happily false.”

“Oh yeah, people round here are honestly really accepting. I mean, I don’t wanna imply that everyone is, there are some homophobes here and Kepler, and even the ones who aren’t make mistakes sometimes, but overall, these are some good communities. I mean, had we done this back in Kepler, I’m betting the worst thing that would have happened is some member of the senior citizens water aerobics class would have seen us and then the next time they came up to the Lodge, would have started saying stuff like ‘how's that special agent of mine doing’ and how ‘you’re sure to find another fella if I go around not giving you my coat when you’re obviously not wearing enough layers’. That’s just how the folks of Kepler are. Always looking out for each other.”

“First, that is nice to have that sense of community. Second, I wear plenty of layers, thank you very much.”

“Mmm, I have to agree with the hypothetical Kepler senior citizen. You need more layers, gonna freeze out here.”

“We’re wearing the exact same amount of layers.”

_ Yes, but I’m bigfoot and run far hotter than any human _ , Barclay thinks.

“And here I was gonna offer you my sweatshirt.”

“Hmm, how about I get a raincheck on that?”

Barclay smiles and then pauses, thinking back to their main conversation. How much of the truth he can tell without giving anything about Sylvain away? “Duly noted. And ah, like we were saying before, honestly, I was lucky. Growing up, I was raised in a really accepting community. I mean,  _ really accepting _ . To the point where coming out? It just wasn’t a thing. There were no assumptions about people’s gender or sexuality or anything really. Let me tell you, it was a shock coming out of that, suddenly finding people who thought lesser than me cause I like men.”

“That sounds like a lovely place to grow up,” Stern murmurs as they gently go around a curve. “Where was is that you were raised again?”

Barclay scrambles to remember where he told Stern he grew up over one of their late night kitchen sessions. Washington? Was it Washington? Or god it might have been Oregon? Shit why doesn’t he just pick a place and stick with it. Or- Wait. Yes, yes he remembers now. 

Or he hopes he does.

“California. Really small town in California. Probably not on any maps.”

“Oh yes, California. I remember now.”

Thank Sylvain.

“And you’re from Connecticut, right?”

“Yes, I was born and raised. And while the community at large was far less accepting than the one you grew up in, my parents, when I told them I was gay, they had no problems. Or well, I’m not sure they liked the idea of me actually trying to pursue a relationship, but that was because they were rather protective of me, didn’t like strangers at all. Still, they were supportive.” Stern lets out a little huff of a laugh and sends a cloud of his breath into the air. “There was once when I was fifteen? Or no, I must have been sixteen. Anyways, it was my birthday and my parents had made me a cake with the rainbow flag on it, except, the first cake fell right on the floor, and so they made another one. Except they were out of some of the food coloring and so it ended up being yellow, white, orange, and neon green.”

Stern starts chuckling, a high and light sound that just barely breaks through the noise of the other skaters. Barclay could honestly get lost in that laugh.

“That’s still my favorite cake I’ve ever received. They just, they tried so hard, even if they didn’t quite understand why there was a pride flag in the first place. That was just how they were, giving everything their all, no matter what.”

“They sound like good parents.”

“They were.” Barclay doesn’t miss the past tense, but if Stern wants to talk about it, he will. No reason for Barclay to go forcing him to dredge up something he doesn’t want to. “They made mistakes sure, but don’t all parents? And I know that raising me wasn’t easy on them. We were ah, cut off from the rest of our family. Any help that having other relatives could have provided was absent.”

For a few moments, Barclay doesn’t push himself along as he skates, just drifts as the picture that is Joseph Stern comes into focus. He thinks back to all the little things Stern knows how to fix. How much of that comes from a son wanting to help his parents? Parents who hated strangers, probably wouldn’t want to call a repairman in to fix things and wouldn’t have had other family members to help?

But he doesn’t have too long to think about that as Stern gently squeezes his hand and says softly, “They were also extremely supportive of some other things and . . . Well, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for some time now, but well,” Stern takes in a breath as they skate along. When he speaks again, his words are slow, like he’s thinking over every syllable before letting it out of his mouth. “I’m trans. It, well I’m assuming you know what that means? And I’m hoping that this would not affect anything between us, I just wanted you to know before we continue with this.”

And then the two of them come to a stop, neither of them having been skating for some time. As they do, Barclay slowly turns on his skates so that he and Stern are facing each other. When he goes to hold Stern’s other hand, he gladly lets him. “Joseph, of course this doesn’t change anything between us. There’s no reason it would. I- I’m crazy about you, all of you. And that’s who you are.”

When Stern breathes, there’s a small catch in his throat but Barclay can barely pay attention to that when he sees the little dimples forming in Stern’s cheeks when a smile blooms on his face. “Thank you, and you’re right. Being trans is a large part of who I am, a part of me I love and wouldn’t change. And knowing that it is a part that you . . . It means a lot to me.”

Then, still wobbling on their skates, Stern lets go of him and Barclay only has a moment to mourn the loss before his gloved hands come up to cup Barclay’s cheeks as Stern kisses him. Without even having to think about it, Barclay kisses back, his own hands resting on the small of Stern’s back. It’s not a long kiss by any stretch of the word, but it is deep and warm and full of promise and Barclay finds himself keeping his eyes closed even as Stern pulls back. 

And then he opens his eyes, taking a moment to focus back in.

Except he focuses on the wrong thing.

He doesn’t focus on Stern in front of him, cheeks flushed and hat slightly askew.

No.

Instead he focuses on Dani, Aubrey, Jake and Mama sitting on a bench twenty feet away, everyone but Mama frozen in the middle of lacing up their skates as they stare at them, jaws slack.

Oh  _ fuck _ .

He feels himself falling, but there’s nothing he can do about it. No, all Barclay can do is careen backwards onto the ice, arms flailing as he instinctively tries to grab on to something. But there’s nothing to hold, just Stern reaching out too late to steady him, and Barclay lets out a short gasp as he collides with the ice below with a heavy  _ thud _ .

“Barclay!” Stern quickly bends down to him. “Are you okay? Here let me help you.” While Barclay’s hands slightly shake, Stern’s hands are steady as he easily lifts him from the ground and seriously, how is he this strong? It doesn’t make sense. “Would you like to go sit down? That looked like it hurt.”

“I uh, actually,” Barclay glances back towards the bench to see his friends still frozen in place. Or well, all of them but Mama. With her boot still on, she just sits there, looking at Barclay with an expression that he couldn’t pinpoint if he had all day. “Fuck, can we go? I’m sorry it’s just-”

Stern’s head snaps around to where Barclay is looking, and a soft “Damn” let’s Barclay know that he’s seen them too. “I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you and-”

“Hey no, you’re fine. I didn’t realise they were here and I, I don’t really want to have this discussion with them here. So please, can we go?”

“Yes. Yes of course.”

With that, they quickly skate back to where they left their shoes, return their rentals, and make it back to the car.

And as they drive back to Kepler, one single thought runs through Barclay’s head:

Looks like he’s having that conversation with Mama today after all.

* * *

When they finally drive up to the Lodge, Mama’s truck is already parked out front. He and Stern had just driven around for a bit, trying to sort through all the things that Barclay wants to tell Mama, because otherwise he’s going to go in there stumbling over the ideas and thoughts as they pour out of his head and splatter on the floor.

And as Barclay cuts the ignition, neither of them move to get out of the car.

“It will be fine,” Stern assures him, resting his hand on top of Barclay’s. “As you said, Ms. Cobb is your best friend. You just need to talk to her.”

“Yeah . . . Yeah, I know.”

And he does. He does know that Mama loves him, loves them all so much. Doesn’t make what’s coming next any easier.

“Well, I think I’m going to turn in for the night, but I wish you luck and if you need me, you know where to find me.”

Barclay nearly stalls more, nearly comments on the fact that it’s only 8:30, nearly asks why Stern keeps going to bed earlier and earlier, but he doesn’t. He can’t put this off anymore. So instead, he and Stern say their goodbyes and while Stern heads inside, Barclay takes the long way around, letting his boots crunch in the snow as he heads out back, knowing exactly where Mama will be.

The light is on in Mama’s workshop and it casts a nice warm glow onto the snow outside. He can just make out the scrape of her chisel and the steady, rythmic rapping of her hammer and for a moment, he considers retreating. 

But he doesn’t.

Instead, the familiar sounds of Mama at work are briefly interrupted by Barclay knocking on the door.

The woods go quiet.

“Come in.”

And with one last deep breath, Barclay pushes the door open and it’s suddenly like they’re back before any of this ever happened. Mama’s over at her workbench, tools still in hand and wood shavings scattered across her designs spread across the table. A record spins on a player in the corner, though no songs play. She always does that, just lets the record play out and then gets so deep in her work that she doesn’t even notice that it’s run out of tracks. Around the shop, a myriad of mugs litter the counter space. It feels like he should be bringing her supper, or trying and ultimately failing to convince her to go to bed.

But Barclay’s hands hang empty at his sides, and the healing cuts on her face coupled with her boot relentlessly remind Barclay that this is different, that things have changed.

“Mind if I come in?”

“Course not.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

He stands in the doorway for a brief second before finally shutting the door and going to sit down on one of the barstools near to Mama. His footsteps are quiet, his breathing more so. It’s as he traces a thumb down the grain, admiring Mama’s craftsmanship, does he ask, “how was skating?” because any words at all are better than the silence.

“Good. It was good.” Mama turns her block of wood and eyes it over before reaching for a scraper. “Plan was to go down to the place near Highland street, ya know, the one run by Sarah?”

“Yeah, I know the one.”

“Well anyways, told ‘em I’d come along with all of ’em, but when we got there, those Hornets had already set up shop and, well, Jake didn’t really feel like hanging around.”

“Makes sense.”

“You know, I was really hoping that by the time I got back, oh I don’t know, they woulda stopped all that illegal shit, they and Jake woulda made up. He really misses all of them, ya know?”

“Would’ve been nice.”

In the corner, the record player continues to spin, little blips and pops echoing from the machine.

Mama sighs and it's like she’s not only letting go of her breath, but whatever facade she was putting up too. Because now, she just looks . . . Tired. Her shoulders sag and her eyes go dim. Setting down her tools, she rubs a hand down her face and when she takes it away, her eyes drift over to Barclay. “So . . . You wanna talk ‘bout it?”

“Honestly? Not really. But we have to. I- Can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep just avoiding it, sneaking around, it feels awful.”

And instead of responding, Mama just turns so they’re facing each other and nods, giving him the floor.

He swallows.

“You left,” He states simply. “You left and you lied to me. You just clapped me on the shoulder, said you had to go run an errand, and then you left. Then, I find out from Aubrey’s letter that you had unfinished business and you were going away for awhile? And that’s- That’s all I had to go on. At first I thought you’d be back in a few days, but then you weren’t. And with each day, I became more and more worried. What if you were in trouble? What if you were hurt or worse? None of us knew where you were, or if you were . . .” Barclay swallows and forces himself to get out the thoughts that have been slowly eating away at him. “Or if you were planning on coming back at all.”

Mama jerks her head. “What? If I was even- Barclay, did ya really think I’d just up and abandon y’all?”

“No! I mean- Maybe. It’s just, look at our track record. It’s not death that gets most of the Pine Guard. It’s just walking away. Calling it quits after too many close calls. We’ve had too many people go  _ run an errand _ and just never come back, and with you talking about how you don’t know how many more hunts you got left in you, I didn’t know . . . And I didn’t  _ want _ to think that. I know how much you care for the Lodge, and even thinking that you’d left us, it felt terrible, but . . .” He shakes his head. “And on top of all that, I was just- Fuck, the thought of trying to do a hunt on my own . . .”

“On your own?” Mama cocks an eyebrow. “But you had Aubrey and Duck and Ned, why would you be alone?”

Running a hand through his hair, Barclay grimaces. He never told the others about this fear, doesn’t particularly want to say it now. But if he doesn’t, the thoughts will continue to fester. “Mama, I honestly thought they’d all quit before we ever even got to the second hunt. Duck didn’t even want to join in the first place, and Ned-” Barclay lets out a short, humourless laugh. “Pretty sure you once said that you could actually throw him farther than you’d trust him, so if he had just skipped town, I wouldn’t have been surprised. And yeah, Aubrey seemed real into all of this, but she also almost  _ died. _ If she, hell if  _ any of them _ had decided to call it quits after that, I wouldn’t have blamed them. I wouldn't have blamed them at all.”

Mama runs a finger through the sawdust. “Guess askin’ the other sylphs for help wouldn’t really be an option, huh?”

“No. And I thought about it. Really did. But I mean, c’mon, they don’t know how to fight. Most of them barely like going into town, hell, Simon still doesn’t even like it when the mail carrier comes round. I couldn’t ask them to fight abominations. I just couldn’t. So if Aubrey, Duck and Ned had decided to call it quits, it would’ve just been me and I can’t even begin to describe how terrifying that idea was. And I know, I know they didn’t and I know you came back, so none of it should matter, right? I should just get over it. But I can’t. Can’t forget that you lied about Thacker, that you could have died because you wouldn’t tell us where you were going. It just feels like you don’t trust me.”

With that, Barclay slumps back against the countertop. He expected to feel better once he got it all out there. But he doesn’t. He feels worse. Feels selfish and like a bad friend and like someone’s taken a chisel to his throat. 

And Mama? She’s just staring at him, fingers frozen in the saw dust, the block of wood long forgotten. “Barclay . . . I didn’t- When I-” She pauses like she’s gathering up her thoughts from the wood shavings on the floor. “I’m not good at openin’ up, you know that better than anyone. I shut folks out, makes it easier I guess. To keep doin’ what we do. And I always thought it was all of them,” Mama gestures vaguely to her right, “down there in Kepler I was shutting out. Keepin’ them at a distance, to protect us and them. Guess I never noticed I was shuttin’ you out too. You and the rest of the Lodge.” With a groan, Mama stands, grabs her walking stick, and starts slowly making her way around the shop. “When I decided to try to go in, find Thacker and all that, never even considered tellin’ y’all. Got so used to keepin’ secrets that another one on the pile, it didn’t seem too bad. Just, the thought of any of y’all tryin’ to come in on after me, and then something happenin’ to ya? I’m supposed to protect all y’all, and I . . .”

Her words trail off as she comes to the window looking out at Amnesty Lodge. He can’t see it, but he can imagine that through the window, she just might be able to catch a glimpse of Moira at the piano, maybe Dani teaching Aubrey how to tend to the herbs on the kitchen windowsill and Jake showing off his newest trick in the lobby, all of them blanketed by the glow from the hearth.

Mama sighs. “Barclay, I can’t attend another funeral. I just can’t. So I thought I was protectin’ all y’all by keepin’ these secrets, not even thinking ‘bout how that would affect y’all. God, on the drive back today, Jake admitted that he thought that I was mad at the sylphs, that y’all had done something wrong, and that’s why I left..”

Barclay can only look at the footprints in the dust on the floor. He knew about Jake’s fears, had stayed up with him one night and assured him that Mama loved them all and that no, she didn’t leave because of something Jake or any of them had done. 

It had left Barclay so heavy.

“All of this is to say: Barclay, I’m sorry.” From the window, Mama turns to him and Barclay feels his breath catch. “I should’ve told you. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, because I do. I trust you so much. When I was over on Sylvain, I knew you were gonna take care of the Lodge and the Pine Guard and everything, never doubted that for a moment.”

And hearing that, by Sylvain it makes Barclay almost want to cry. But it also brings up something else that needs to be said. “I- Thank you. And I’m sorry too. That argument when you came back, I shouldn’t have raised my voice, should’ve listened to what you had to say and explained myself. And I definitely shouldn’t have been avoiding you. I just, I got so overwhelmed with everything and I kept putting it off and well . . .”

“Hey, wasn’t like I was doin’ too great with talking ‘bout things either. I was mad, I’ll admit it. Couldn’t figure out why you were sticking up so much for Agent Stern, felt like you were puttin’ him ‘fore the Lodge.”

“No, no, I’m not putting him before the Lodge,” Barclay rushes to say, but before he can continue, Mama shakes her head and puts up her hand.

“I know, I know. I just got so caught up in the thought of the Bigfoot Brigade settin’ up shop here that I couldn’t see past that. But with all you had to juggle ‘round here, sounds like you did a mighty fine job.”

“I tried.”

“Also sounds like you did everythin’ on your own.”

Barclay glances away. “I- Yeah. Guess I did.” And although half of him is begging to not bring this up, that if he does he’ll be some self-centered asshole, Stern’s words echo in his head and he squares his shoulders and says as steady as possible. “Honestly, things have been a lot for a while. But I never wanted to say anything, thought that I could shoulder everything on my own, that having the others help out would be selfish of me. So I didn’t ask for help. Then got upset that I didn’t have help. And from there is just . . . Spiralled.”

“Askin’ for help is okay,” Mama gives him a little half-smile. “Think that’s something I gotta learn myself, if I’m tellin’ the truth.”

Returning the smile, Barclay breathes easy for the first time in a while. “Maybe that’s something we can both work on? Asking for help?”

“Think that’s a great idea. And maybe askin’ for help ‘round the Lodge might be a first good step? Think Aubrey might be a good assistant manager, maybe Dani and Sebastian could switch off with you in the kitchen? Give you some days off? Bet Jake would make a damn fine server, boy’s got a memory like nothing else.”

His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Eventually, once his brain rearranges his vocabulary into something vaguely resembling a language, Barclay manages out a simple, “I . . . I don’t know. Wouldn’t want to force them or anything.”

“No ones gonna force anyone to do anything. Look, the rest of the sylphs, they might not be able to help out with the Pine Guard, but they still wanna help. I know you want to make sure they’re all taken care of. But they wanna take care of you too, that’s what families do.”

And then apparently, when his brain was trying to force out all the words he’s kept under lock and key, it also forced out some tears to because Barclay feels his cheeks grow damp and he can’t stop himself before he crosses the room and wraps Mama up in a hug that she returns, the pressure against his chest so comforting and sweet that Barclay feels like his ribs will burst but he doesn’t even care.

“I’ve missed you, Mama.”

“Missed you too, Barclay.”

When they finally pull apart, Mama looks up at him and smiles. “Now,” she says. “Why don’t you and I take all my mugs inside, grab us some cider then come back out here and catch up? I can put my bluegrass back on, too.”

“I’d love that.”

It’s as they go around, picking up the mugs, that Mama calls over to him, voice light with a smile that Barclay can’t see. “Besides, I wanna hear all about this Agent Stern fella who caught your eye. Gotta make sure he’s good enough for ya.”

With mugs in hand, Barclay groans but a smile still plays on his lips, excitement bubbling in him at the prospect of telling his best friend all about Stern.

Because yeah, not everyone at the lodge is gonna be thrilled at the prospect of Barclay dating an FBI agent, but if Mama’s open to the idea, there might be hope for the others yet.


	11. The Mortifying Ordeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After so long of being alone, Stern doesn't really know how to react now that so many people actually want to talk to him.

If asked, Stern would say that there truly is no other feeling like waking up well-rested, sheets still warm beneath him. Especially if there is nowhere he has to be that day and he can simply lay there in bed and curl beneath the covers. The birds are always a nice addition too, barring they aren’t too loud. He sometimes wonders what it would be like to wake up next to another, next to Barclay, but those are thoughts best left for dreams. He can’t risk Barclay asking why he sleeps with a watch on, now can he?

However, on this particular night, Stern wakes up feeling like absolute  _ shit. _

His eyes feel like they grew two sizes in his skull overnight and are trying to squeeze out of his eye sockets, stopped only by the thick layer of crust that’s formed on his eyelids in the night. Trying to take a breath, Stern finds his throat feeling as cracked and raw as his lips. Hands shaking from the cold as he fumbles for his glass of water, Stern knows it must be two or three in the morning. He wouldn’t feel this terrible if the dawn had already come. With a few more hours wearing his necklace he’ll feel as good as new. 

Finally finding his glass, Stern takes in big gulps of water as he sits up in bed, his cold sheets splayed around him. And as he sits there, Stern listens to the comforting sounds of Amnesty Lodge around him. The steady sway of the trees, how the wood panels shifts and creaks, the birds singing their songs, the quiet click of the clock, the-

Wait.

The birds?

Stern tilts his head toward the curtain drawn windows and, yes. The gentle tweeting of birds greets him. But . . . No. They wouldn’t be singing at this hour. Unless . . .

Sloshing his water as he scrambles for his glasses, Stern quickly shoves the spectacles onto his face and let’s his eyes adjust for a moment as he stares at the bedside clock.

8:55

It’s eight fifty-five in the morning.

And yet Stern feels like he’s been in bed for no more than an hour or two.

In his chest, his heart pounds and ice-cold dread starts to pool and slosh in his stomach. Even with all the water he just drank, his mouth goes dry. Slowly, like he’s afraid of the answer he’ll find, Stern reaches up and let’s his fingers rest against his crystal pendant lying against his sleep shirt.

A shudder and a gasp runs through him when he does.

The crystal is cold. So unbearably cold that Stern can’t stand to touch it for too long. How did this . . . When did this . . . 

Was it this bad yesterday? Or the day before? Sure, he woke up not feeling great, but that had to just have been because he had stayed up later than usual with Barclay. Not because . . .

His hand finds his way back to his necklace and this time, he holds on tight and just lets himself feel it. Underneath all the cold, there is a tiny flicker of warmth, a heartbeat of heat that Stern clings to.

Were his estimates off? Does he have less time than he originally thought? But his search, he still hasn’t found anything. The other sylph is still somewhere out there in Kepler, and he doesn’t have the faintest idea of who it is. He thought as soon as he met them, he would just  _ know. _ Maybe that’s not the case.

Still sitting up in bed, Stern has the odd sensation that he’s breathing too heavy and too fast, but he can’t actually make himself stop. He’s just along for the ride, trying desperately to hit the brakes that aren’t actually connected.

What is he going to do?

What if he goes feral?

He’ll hurt people.

He’ll be hunted.

He’ll die.

He’ll die and nobody but Barclay will care.

_ Barclay. _

He wants to find Barclay. With Barclay’s arms around him, he’ll feel better, he’ll forget all this.

So Stern simply rides out the feeling, waiting for his breathing to eventually even out so he can go about his morning pretending to be a put-together person who is extremely fine, thank you for asking. Oh boy, that weather, huh? This is what a calm person sounds like, yes? Yes. Of course. 

And when Stern finally does get up, he slips out of his pajamas, neatly folds them before placing them back in the suitcase under his bed along with his necklace, takes out his suit and loses himself in the familiar feeling of buttoning up his shirt and putting on his cufflinks, and then topping it off by smoothing on a mask that screams ‘I’m fine’ before checking his watch to ensure it’s latched properly.

It’s always latched properly.

But there’s no harm in checking. 

And then checking again.

Then, when Stern checks his reflection in the mirror, he can’t help but smile at how well he plays the part of ‘human’ and ‘fine’.

He just has to keep that up till he can come back to his room tonight. 

However, just as he gets to the door, Stern glances back at his locked suitcase tucked under his bed. If he already feels this terrible, he’s only going to get worse throughout the day. There’s no way he’ll make it to tonight without crashing. But maybe, just maybe if he wore his necklace for longer, then he would feel better? Maybe the problem is that the necklace is dispersing its magic at a slower rate? But at the same time, wearing it out of the confines of his room would be dangerous. What if it breaks?

Biting his lip, Stern takes a moment to consider it before shaking his head with a groan and going back over to his suitcase. He checks three separate times that the necklace is well hidden under the layers of his suit before venturing out 

He tries to not wince when the cool crystal jostles against his skin as he walks down the stairs towards the kitchen. It feels so odd, wearing it out of the safety of his room, but desperate times and all that. 

With a yawn, he pushes the door open to the kitchen and gives a mumbled “Good morning,” in the general direction of the stove. From the smell of it, Barclay’s making eggs.

“Morning, Agent Stern!” A bright voice calls from the stove and if he wasn’t awake before he certainly is now as it feels like a rubber band snaps in his chest because that’s certainly not Barclay.

As composed as possible, Stern turns his head to see that the person watching over the eggs is in fact Ms. Dani, with Ms. Little sat on the counter next to her. Barclay is nowhere to be seen. He had forgotten that Barclay was now to have help in the kitchen.“Good morning,” he replies, smoothing away the jagged edges of his voice. “So sorry for bothering you, I had assumed Barclay was here.”

Turning around, spatula still in hand, Dani waves off his apology. “No worries, Agent Stern. Barclay’s actually out back in the hot springs, but I can get you breakfast?”

“Oh thank you, but I really don’t want to bother you. I can see that you’re preoccupied.”

“No, these are done actually.” As she speaks, she slides the eggs on to a plate that Aubrey eagerly starts digging into. “So yeah, I’m not as good as Barclay, but if you got any requests, I’ll be happy to make them. I need the practice anyway.”

He hopes the smile he puts on looks both genuine and human. “Well, that’s very kind of you. Could I possibly get a cup of coffee and a slice of toast?”

“Toast I can do.” 

And as she goes over to their bread bin, Stern stands up from his chair and begins walking out of the kitchen, relieved he got through that with minimal talking.

“Uhh, Agent Stern?” Aubrey calls after him, words muffled through eggs. “Where you going?”

“Ah, I was just going to go sit out in the lobby?” Stern takes a step back. “Again, I don’t want to intrude.”

Dani shakes her head and offers him a smile. “You can stay in the kitchen with us. I know Barclay lets you sit back here.”

Yes, but that’s just Barclay, not people who have done their best to keep their interactions with him to a maximum of three words up until now, a setup Stern was very happy with, thank you very much.

But he doesn’t want to argue, too tired to come up with reasons he should sit by himself rather than here, and so he sits back down. “Thank you, then.”

Aubrey gives him a thumbs up. “So, Agent Stern? Or wait- Joseph right?”

“Yes, it’s Joseph.”

“Well then Joseph, got any plans for the holidays? Visiting family maybe?”

“No, I’ll be remaining here in Kepler.”

And it’s like instead of the seven word sentence he actually said, Aubrey and Dani heard something extremely different, something that makes Dani’s gaze shift briefly to Aubrey and Aubrey to raise her eyebrows before going back to her plate of eggs.

“Well,” Dani starts, her face hidden as she turns around to the toaster. “That just means you’ll be able to come to the Lodge holiday party then. Has Barclay told you about it?”

Yes, Barclay has mentioned it in passing. Talking about ingredients he needs to get for the food, decorations he needs to pull down from the attic, but that was essentially the short and quick of it. And well . . .

Stern had assumed he wasn’t invited.

Sure, Barclay and he are dating, but everyone else at the lodge seems to not like him one bit. In fact, his plan was to just hide away in his room for the duration of the party and he was happy with that. 

“Yes, although I will admit that I don’t know much about it.”

“Oh it’s gonna be great!” Aubrey sets down her plate and lets her arms arch in grand sweeping motions. “I’m gonna be doing a magic show, Dr. Harris Bonkers, he’s my assistant, I got him this sweater, there’s gonna be a gift exchange, Moira’s gonna shred it on the piano, it’ll be great!”

And although Stern has words in his head that he could say, none come out and Dani steps in during the silence.

“Also . . . Well, I think it’ll be a good chance for everyone to get to know you better.”

From the counter, the toast pops up and Stern winces.

“Get to know  _ me?” _

“Yeah, look, I know we haven’t exactly uh, rolled out the welcome wagon. Guess most of us just heard  _ FBI agent _ and got, I don’t know, spooked? But we want to get to know you, especially now that you and Barclay are together.”

In the back of his throat, a high whine that he hopes reads as a “Mhmm” squeaks out. 

Lots of strangers getting to know him? 

Asking him questions about his past? 

Oh boy. 

_ Oh boy. _

Can he say no in a way that makes him not sound like a complete jackass?

But before he can answer that, Dani slides him a plate of toast and coffee. “There you go, enjoy!”

“Thank you.”

And then, Stern eats his toast as fast as humanly possible while still keeping up pretenses of politeness, grabs his coffee, offers Aubrey and Dani one last thanks, and then quickly retreats from the kitchen, still feeling as terrible as when he woke up.

Maybe even worse.

God, he really wants to find Barclay.

The hot springs? That’s where they said he was? Stern turns on his heel and heads out back, feeling the winter breeze blow against his cheeks as he steps outside. And then he walks the short stone path and comes across the hot springs, with currently only one occupant in it.

Stern’s mouth goes dry for all the right reasons.

With his head tilted back and arms stretched out on either side of him, Barclay sits in the spring with his eyes closed and a content smile on his face. Steam curls around his thick arms and water droplets run down his chest, catching on the hair there. 

“Enjoying the view?”

A heat rises to Stern’s cheeks as he catches the mischievous smile on Barclay’s face, eyes still closed. “How did you know it was me?”

“Your shoes,” Barclay explains as he finally opens his eyes and stretches in the water. “They make this little click sound when you walk. Could pick you out of a crowd just by hearing that.”

“Huh, I wasn’t aware they were that loud.”

“They’re not, just- I don’t know, something I’ve picked up on.”

Stern hides his smile behind his mug as he takes a long sip. 

“Now, you wanna join me in here? Feels real good.”

And he does. He really does. But then Barclay would almost certainly ask why he wasn’t taking off his watch, maybe even would comment on his necklace. His necklace that sticks out like a sore thumb. No. He can’t. Too risky. He’s put off ever stepping foot in those hot springs all these months, no reason to start now.

“Thank you, but unfortunately, I have quite a bit of work to do today. Although it does look lovely in there.”

“Ah, gotcha,” Barclay starts climbing out of the hot springs and Stern takes a moment to appreciate his legs as he dries off. “We still on for tonight though? Thinking of making some chicken tikka masala.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.” Then he smiles and the want to leave it there creeps up on him, but he pushes it down. “Also, I was talking with Dani and Aubrey this morning-”

Before he can finish, Barclay raises his eyebrows. “Really? That’s great.”

Great is certainly  _ a word. _

“Well yes, they mentioned a holiday party? They said I was invited but really, I don’t want to intrude. I know my presence doesn’t exactly put a lot of people at ease, so really, I am more than fine with not attending.”

“What? No, Joseph, you wouldn’t be intruding!” Barclay takes a hesitant step forward, but then looks down at the water dripping onto the wood. “The rest of the Lodge, they know how important you are to me. They want to get to know you. They want you to be there.  _ I _ want you to be there.”

Stern doesn't know how to respond to that, feels something rising in himself that he doesn’t know if he can name or if he would even want to name. So instead, he just takes a short sip of coffee, eyes averted. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Think you’re gonna have a really good time too. Might even be some mistletoe.”

That earns a laugh. “Ah, do I sense ulterior motives?”

“Me? Never.” And then, Barclay leans in and Stern is only a few seconds behind him for a kiss that sends the same amount of warm butterflies through his chest as the first time. If water drips onto Stern’s clothes, well he really couldn’t care less.

“All right, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight, make sure to keep warm out there.”

“I’ll try.”

Once the two of them part, Stern makes a pit stop in the kitchen to clean his mug, trying desperately to get through the small talk with Aubrey and Dani about the weather. Then, with his keys twirling on his finger, Stern makes his way to his car. Alright, first stop will be City Hall. He’s sure they’ve must have seen some odd things over the years. After that will be the library again. He’s gotten most of the way through the property records of the town, but there’s still more he wants to cross-reference with the timeline of Bigfoot sightings in the area. Then there is that RV park. He hopes the owner of that Winnebago is actually in today for an interview. Maybe then he’ll-

Stern pauses on the porch as he spots a figure standing next to his car.

A figure with a terrible tan hat.

“ _ Dale _ ,” he calls as he strides over, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing at my car?”

And Dale, the bastard, grins at Stern. “Just wanted to talk, nothing  _ illegal _ about that, is there?”

Stern feels his nostrils flare. “No. There is not.” Glancing around to make sure no one else is near, Stern takes a step closer to Dale, which is actually about fifty steps closer than he’d ever want to be. “So, what is it that you wanted to discuss?”

“Glad you asked, see Stern, those reports you’ve been giving me? Well, not much information in there, huh?”

“I have given you  _ everything _ I have obtained.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have Joey.” Stern’s keys press painfully into his palm. “I don’t think for a second that you’d be dumb enough to try and keep anything from me. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Everything you have doesn’t really add up to much. Just a bunch of interviews with people who couldn’t tell a sasquatch from a jersey devil even if it crawled up their ass.” And when Dale laughs, it’s a deep, belly laugh that feels like a baseball bat to the skull. “I mean, with that badge of yours, I bet you could get into a whole host of locations. Like that telescope place.”

Stern does his best to keep his tone even as he speaks. “Do you think Bigfoot is manning the telescope?”

Another laugh, this sounding more like he’s pushing the sounds through a sausage maker to force it into a laugh. “Good one. But no, I’m just sayin’, I think you should be using the resources available to you,  _ Agent _ . I mean, if you’re not using them, what’s the point in having them, hmm?” Dale adjusts his hat and it casts his face in shadow. “Or maybe, you’re spending too much time with that cook? What’s his name? Barcly?”

Stern sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth as the metal key bends in his grip. 

“Or no, it’s Barclay, isn’t it? Nice guy. Decent food. Seems to really like working at Amnesty. Now, I’m no expert on hotels-”

_ Or anything besides being an absolute bastard. _

“But I’m betting there’s some policy on uh,” He bounces his eyebrow. “ _ Fraternizing _ with guests. Bet he could get in some real trouble if the owner found out. Maybe even fired. I’m just concerned for the two of you, understand?”

And maybe a few weeks ago, this threat would have replaced Stern’s blood with ice water, but now? Now he just laughs. For his part, Dale does a slow blink. When Stern speaks, it is with a cold calculated calm as he takes a step forward, forcing Dale to take a step back. “Oh, I believe there’s been some confusion. You see, Ms. Cobb? The owner of the Lodge? Well she’s entirely aware of the relationship between Barclay and myself. Actually, she seems rather happy for us. I imagine you’re just elated at this news, seeing how  _ concerned  _ you are for the two of us. That is why you told me, correct? Because let me make one thing crystal clear to you . . .”

Another step. Another crunch of gravel between his feet.

“You can threaten me all you wish. Hold over me the threat of revealing my true FBI status. I’m assuming that is what you’ll crawl back to now that your other means of blackmail have fallen short, hmm? And if you want more evidence, I will bring you more evidence, However,” Stern draws up to his full height, looking down at Dale, wide eyed and frozen. Sure rudeness brings attention and attention brings death, but if he’s already probably going to die, well what’s the harm? “If I have even an iota of suspicion that you are dragging Barclay into all of this, that you are threatening him or the Lodge or any of its residents, I assure you Dale, finding Bigfoot will truly be the least of your worries. Do I make myself clear or do you need further explanation? A demonstration perhaps?”

Dale’s adam’s apple bobs in his throat and he coughs as he adjusts his hat. “I- You can’t- I still- I still want better evidence from you, understand? I could still go telling everybody that you’re not really an FBI agent.”

“Of course. I expected no better from you anyway.” 

Huffing, Dale steps to the side and out of Stern’s shadow. “Fine. You got one week, better bring me something good though.” And with that, Dale heads over to his own truck and peels out of the parking lot, the fake ‘Bigfoot Hunting Permit’ bumper stickers barely visible through the mud caked onto the back.

It’s only once he’s completely out of sight down the road does Stern let the tension drain from his shoulders and jaw with each shuddering breath. 

Fine.

If Dale wants evidence of Bigfoot.

_ He’s going to get evidence of Bigfoot. _

* * *

The moon hangs limply overhead, barely a quarter left till it becomes full. The wind doesn’t so much as roar through the trees as drip off its branches, little puffs of cold that Stern shrugged off long ago as he trekked out into the forest. He doesn’t think about what he’s doing, what he’s about to do. Instead, he just keeps stepping from root to root, eyes staring straight ahead in the utter blackness. 

He shouldn’t do this.

Every word and warning every drilled into his head claws at the folds of his brain, begging him to heed them. Stern imagines his mother desperately pulling at his shirt sleeves, pleading with him to just leave town and forget about Kepler, that it’s not worth it. Meanwhile, the image of his father tries to grab onto his shoulder on the other side. His words, always so soft spoken as if he was afraid that speaking too loud would give them all away, wouldn’t even echo off the trees. They would barely even make it to Stern’s ears as they repeated like a mantra that Stern shouldn’t do this. 

But his parents aren’t here.

Haven’t been for so long. 

And so Stern continues on, face blank and body numb from the cold or from the relentless weight of the day, he can’t say.

Eventually, he comes to a spot deep within the forest, far from the Lodge and for a moment, Stern just stands there on a root and considers for the last time if he should do this.

But really, what is there to consider?

If he doesn’t bring Dale better Bigfoot evidence by the end of the week, he’s fucked.

So really, there is no choice at all.

And so, breath barely visible in the air, Stern unclasps his watch and slips it off his wrist.

Immediately, the forest shifts around him, reality rippling as Stern’s true form breaks out into the night. The ground is so much farther away, the root he stands on, so much smaller. Watch still in hand, he looks down at the blackness of his fur that seems to swallow up even the faintest of light. There’s something oddly comforting about seeing that his fur is still the same color as his hair in his human form, it . . . It reminds Stern that it's still him. 

Because this? 

This form?

It doesn’t feel like him. 

He never got to transition in this form, and while the sexual dimorphism is thankfully minimal for his type of sylph, it's still there and he still cannot ignore it. 

But when he’s human, he gets to look exactly how he wants to look. That form offers him freedom. This form offers him nothing.

Under the towering trees, Stern takes in a breath and he can’t stand how much his chest rumbles with an odd growl when he does. 

Just . . . Just get this over with. Just get this done and then run back to the Lodge. Not like sleep will help him though. His necklace has been keeping him hovering just above feeling like absolute garbage all day, but hey, at least he doesn’t feel worse. 

That’s something.

God knows he needs something to cling to.

Okay. Okay, he can do this. Three, two, one-

And with one powerful push of his legs, Stern takes off in a mad sprint across the forest, the feeling of mud between his toes making him cringe. He doesn’t make any noise though as he runs across the forest. It’s just barely there breath and wind rushing past his fur, twigs only occasionally snapping under his colossal weight.

It’s the first time in his life that he’s ever taken off his watch outside.

And as he leaps over a fallen tree, darts between trunks and ducks beneath branches, a tiny, miniscule, inconsequential part of him can’t help but think of how  _ exhilarating _ this is. Is this how fast he can really go? Could he go faster? God, it feels like he could outrun a car at this pace. Without even meaning to, he feels a smile spread across his face as he runs, faster and faster, wind roaring in his ears.

Alright.

So maybe this form does offer something. 

Feeling daring, Stern sees a thick low hanging branch coming up and he doesn’t think twice before he pushes off with his left leg, jumps up and grabs the branch with one hand, letting himself swing through the jump and just as he hears the branch begins to crack, Stern lets go and lands firmly on the ground. For a moment, he just stands there in the dark, panting hard through his grin. That was . . . Damn, that was fun. Should he have done it? No. It was reckless and dangerous and something could have happened to his necklace. What if he had dropped it? Or it had broken?

But still, it was fun and as he glances back at his path, he sees a trail of good Bigfoot prints, meaning he got what he came for. 

He’ll come back tomorrow morning to photograph them, let the wind blow some leaves and dirt on top of them to make them look less fresh. 

From his left hand, Stern takes his watch and puts it on his wrist, but he doesn’t clasp it on yet. Instead he waits a moment, before adding one last bad decision on to his already long list. With his back straight, head tilted up, and lungs once again filled with air, Stern lets one long warbling roar echo through the trees. As it goes on, the birds taking flight around him, Stern prays he’ll hear some far-distant call of someone else joining in.

But then, the roar ends, sputtering out into a soft whine. 

The forest once again goes silent.

And once again, like always, Stern is alone. 


	12. He Said Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Candlenights has come to Kepler and Stern spends the night learning about the holiday and deciding that maybe, just maybe, getting close to others isn't so bad.

“ _ When the skies grow cold, and the lights all dim, and the rings around us come crashing in, if you’re safe in my arms, I’ll be alright, here on this Candlenights~” _

“I never realised you were such an excellent singer.”

Barclay won’t admit that he jumps at the sound of Stern’s voice behind him, mostly because he knows Stern must have seen his shoulders jump as he arranged the cookies. The sound of his shoes on the tile must have been masked by the sounds of the Candlenights party shifting into gear in the lobby.

“Wouldn’t exactly call myself ‘excellent’, but I appreciate the compliment.”

“You’re being modest.” This time, Barclay does here the quiet click of Stern’s shoes as he comes up beside him. “It’s like how you say your french onion soup is ‘just okay’.”

“Compared to Eugene’s, yeah it is  _ just okay _ .”

“I have to disagree.”

As he playfully rolls his eyes, Barclay leans over and gives Stern a quick peck on the lips. “Feel like you might be a bit biased there.”

Stern’s smiles something sly. “Mmm, perhaps. But now, do you need any assistance? Need anything carried out?”

“Yeah actually, that’d be great. Jake and Moira already brought out most of the stuff that Dani made earlier, so there’s not much left.” Barclay points to a bowl of salad, a yule log, and a plate of cupcakes. “Those all need to go out, second table to the left of the hearth. Or wait, that might be full. Maybe the table near the front desk?”

“The one they’ve already set the karaoke machine up on?”

“Oh, shit. Uhh-”

“It’s alright Barclay, I’m sure I’ll find some place to put them.” And then as he goes over and starts picking up the plates, Stern calls over his shoulder, voice light. “Oh and Barclay? That song you were singing, what was that?”

Barclay pauses, cookies still in hand. “The song?” Shit he’d been singing a Sylvan song, wasn’t he? Really hope Stern doesn’t ask about the whole ‘rings come crashing in line’ cause he really doesn’t think he can come up with a convincing enough lie in time and saying ‘my planet has rings around it’ really isn’t gonna cut it. “Oh uh, yeah, it’s called  _ If The Light Goes Out On Candlenights _ .”

Good thing he wasn’t singing  _ The Season of Sylvain. _

“Hmm. And the tune? Is that from something else?”

“Uh, no? Not that I know of. Why?”

Stern’s face scrunches up for a moment before he shakes his head and the lines of thought smooth out on his face. “Nothing. The melody just sounded familiar, though for the life of me I can’t think of where I’ve heard it.” Shrugging, Stern makes his way towards the door. “No matter, probably just something similar on the radio.” However, when he reaches the door, he doesn’t actually go out. Instead he just stands there, shoulders squared and back straight.

Any and all thoughts of what Earth song could possibly sound like a centuries old song from Sylvain leave Barclay’s head as he sets down the tray and walks over to Stern. “Hey? Joseph? Don’t worry. It’ll be great.”

He sighs. “It’s just- I don’t exactly do great at parties, and I know I make some of the others uncomfortable. Truly, it’s not too late for me to make myself scarce so you all can enjoy the party. You can tell them there was a Bigfoot sighting that I had to attend to or something of that ilk.”

Gently, Barclay takes the plates from Stern’s hands and he doesn’t fight it at all. However, his hands aren’t empty for long as Barclay reaches out to hold them. “Look, if you really don’t want to come to the Candlenights party, then that’s fine. I want you to be comfortable and if you want me to, I’ll even tell the others that something came up with work and you can’t come. But Joseph? I don’t want you to not come ‘cause you think the others don’t want you there. They do. Really. I promise.”

Stern’s eyes shift away. “You’re not just saying this to be kind, are you?”

“No, of course not. I honestly think you’re gonna have a great time. Aubrey’s magic show is really something, ‘specially in person. Not to mention that Jake’s been trying to butter Mama up all week to take spin at karaoke. Not that I think she’s gonna do it, but if she does, you gotta be there for it.”

This finally gets a smile to crack on Stern’s face. “I cannot imagine Ms. Cobb setting foot anywhere near that karaoke machine.”

“You never know. Stranger things have happened before on Candlenights.”

“Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity. I just might have to stay and hear what's happened in Candlenights past.”

“You’ll love the one about the brussel sprouts, guaranteed.” Barclay gently squeezes Stern’s hand, his voice going soft and low. “Seriously though, if you decide you don’t want to stay, I won’t be upset. Just let me know.”

“I will. Now, I have to get this food out there, but you’ll join me soon, yes?”

“Course. Just gotta finish up in here then I’ll be right out.”

This time when Stern picks up the plates, he does so with a tentative smile before he heads out of the kitchen and into the fray.

And by Sylvain herself, wherever she may rest in the sky, does Barclay pray that he didn’t just lie to Stern. Because while he would love to end this party with everyone happy and just the best of friends, whether that will actually happen is another question entirely. He had hoped to be able to prep the others this last week about safe/unsafe topics to talk to Stern about, but with the abomination rearing its head, he never got the chance. Honestly, why did it have to be a tree? A tree with goat henchman? Goat henchman that Duck just had to go and save? 

Barclay takes a breath and tries to arrange the cookies into a somewhat pleasing pattern to take his mind off things. It’s fine. It turned out fine. It always does. But damn did this hunt take it out of him. The only positive to the whole thing is that with all the incidents looking like accidents, Stern seemed to not notice anything odd. Or maybe he was just too caught up in searching for Bigfoot to notice. Which is . . . A whole other thing. Every day Stern just seems to be more and more tired, never taking a day off from his interviews and searches. He’s even caught him talking with  _ Dale _ of all people and Barclay knows for a fact that Stern fucking hates Dale.

He’s working himself to death and Barclay doesn’t know what to do about it.

But tonight’s not about that. Tonight is a chance to unwind and relax and Barclay’s gonna make damn sure that everything goes perfectly. So when he exits the kitchen and sees Stern sitting on the couch with perfect posture and a thin smile which doesn’t reach his eyes, not talking to anybody but instead just idly picking at the food on his plate, Barclay knows he’s got his work cut out for him tonight. 

Okay, maybe he can convince Nexiad and Jake to go talk to him? Cause if the others see them talking to Stern, then maybe they’ll be more likely to warm up to him too. Just got to find Nexiad and Jake. They might be out on the patio? Or maybe grabbing gifts from their rooms? And there’s always the chance that Jake is once again going to attempt to jump off the second floor balcony into the lobby and of course Nexiad would encourage him . . .

And it’s as Barclay glances up towards the wrap-around balcony that he catches sight of Ned and Mama of all people making their way towards Stern before sitting down on the couch right next to him.

Alright, this Barclay has to see.

Maneuvering his way through the party, Barclay just catches Ned calling jovially, “Ah, Agent Stern! Are you enjoying the Candlenights festivities? Have you tried the punch? Made it myself and let’s say that with my-” Barclay makes it over just in time to see Ned bounce his eyebrows suggestively. “ _ Special ingredient _ , this party will really get going.”

In response, Mama rolls her eyes. “Ned, I know for a fact that your ‘special ingredient’ is just some vodka and rum.” 

“And how would you know that? I’m a man of mystery and multitudes!”

“Ned, I saw you makin’ it in the kitchen and you literally just added Grey Goose and Captain Morgan to some lemonade.” She then turns to face Stern who is still just sitting there watching all of his unfold. “If you’re lookin’ for something non-alcoholic, we got some regular punch over there. Not that you gotta worry ‘bout drivin’ home or nothing, just wanna make sure ya know your options.”

“Ah, well thank you very much for informing me. I just might have to try some of this special punch.”

“Just watch out, Agent,” Ned says, voice going low like it does when he’s about to spin some tale on Saturday Night Dead. “This is some powerful stuff, don’t want to see you passed out on the floor, now do we?”

“Well yeah, that’ll happen when you dump an entire bottle of vodka into what looked like a Capri Sun’s worth of lemonade. Both you and Duck are stayin’ the night here if y’all dip into that, just letting ya know.”

This actually draws a small laugh out of Stern and Barclay feels his chest lighten. 

So maybe this won’t go so bad after all.

“Luckily I have a rather high tolerance for alcohol, so I’m not too concerned. Still, I’m not overly fond of the idea of making a fool of myself and getting drunk, so I think I’ll still err on the side of caution.”

“Think that’s a pretty good idea,” Barclay comments as he officially and finally joins the conversation, sliding in next to Stern as he does. Immediately, some of the tension drops from Stern’s shoulders and their hands find each other so naturally and so fast that Barclay barely even notices it until Stern’s thumb is gently rubbing against the back of his hand. “I mean, I’ve got a pretty high tolerance too, but I don’t know if I’m willing to risk it with that jungle juice you’ve cooked up Ned.”

Scoffing, Ned waves Barclay off. “Well, the both of you don’t have good taste, you’re perfect for each other.”

“Yeah, think we are.”

And when Barclay glances over to Stern, he sees a small smile on his face coupled with just a hint of red rising on his cheeks. However, it doesn’t last long as Stern clears his throat and looks over to Ned. “So, Mr. Chicane, how are you doing? I heard you were struck by a Pizza Hut sign? And that you prevented the funicular from crashing with your own car? It seems that this week has been rather unlucky for you, hmm?”

“Oh, those stories have been highly exaggerated!” Ned replies smoothly. “You know the people of Kepler: Quick to gossip and slow to check the facts. But yes, I’m perfectly fine! In fact, I’ve been using my snowmobile to get around until I can find a new mode of transportation. Seats three people if you and Barclay ever want to take a lovers jaunt around Kepler!”

“Ned Chicane, please tell me you haven’t been ridin’ that thing around town. No way that thing’s street legal.”

“Sheriff Owens hasn’t berated me yet, so I think I’m fine.”

“Hasn’t berated or hasn’t caught you yet?” 

Ned just smiles. 

“Anyway, it’ll take a bit more than some old funicular to take ol’ Ned Chicane down! But now, Agent Stern, you went and helped with that sinkhole in town, yes? Dr. Roberts has been bending everyone's ear about the heroic FBI agent who saved him from the jaws of death with his incredible strength. My, I’m sure your superiors must be proud of you!”

“Ah well yes, like you said, stories get overexaggerated. I just helped out where I could. No reason for any fanfare.”

Stern’s hand tenses under Barclay’s own and before Barclay has time to wonder why, Stern starts speaking again. “So I will admit, I don’t know much about Candlenights. Is it associated with a certain culture or religion?”

Mama shakes her head. “Nah, in fact, the whole point is that anyone can celebrate for any reason. It means different things to different people. Some folks celebrate for family, others do it for their religion . . .”

“I’m celebrating the entire discography of Wham!” Jake yells as he runs by.

“ . . . And some celebrate the entire discography of Wham!, really just depends on the person.”

“Hmm, that all sounds rather lovely.”

“Really is, and you’re gonna get to see it firsthand. Now,” Mama slaps her legs as she goes to stand. “Think I’m gonna grab some food, be right back.”

The three of them sit there in silence for a moment as the party keeps going on around them. However, Barclay soon spots three of the other sylphs, Harlan, Kay, and Marcella, furiously whispering to each other as they occasionally glance over towards the couch. All Barclay can catch is a harsh whisper of “Just go ask him!” before Kay gently pushes Marcella over towards them.

“Uh, mister Agent Stern sir?” Marcella starts, pointedly not looking at Stern. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Ah, yes of course. Also no need for formalities, you can call me Joseph if you would like.”

Marcella’s eyes narrow slightly and they put on a smile that screams ‘I’m not gonna do that’ but it’s gone in a flash as they take in a deep breath. “Well uh, I was just wondering . . . You travelled across the country, right?”

“Yes, I have for the past decade or so.”

“So, have you ever seen the Grand Canyon?”

“Once, a couple of years ago.”

“What’s it like?”

This makes Stern pause and in that silence, Marcella continues on as they fiddle with their hair.

“It’s just- No one here’s ever been to the Grand Canyon. I mean, I’ve seen pictures, but what’s it like in person?”

And while Barclay knew that Marcella was interested in the Grand Canyon, he didn’t realise that love would override their general uneasiness about Stern.

“Has no one here really been to the Grand Canyon?” Stern looks to Barclay and he nods.

“Most folks around here haven’t even left West Virginia. And yeah, I used to travel around, but it never brought me near there.”

“Oh.”

Marcella is still standing there looking at Stern, with Kay and Harlan only a few steps behind them doing the same. For a moment, Barclay truly thinks Stern will say no. He doesn’t really like talking about his work and Barclay can only assume he was there for an investigation. He’ll probably politely decline and quickly eat some pretzels to avoid the situation.

“Pictures just don’t do it justice.”

Barclay turns his head over to Stern while the other three suddenly and eagerly come to the couches, sitting on armrests and the brick of the hearth to hear Stern.

“I could tell from photographs that it was large, but it’s vastly different in person. It truly seems endless. Like I had reached the end of the world and that if I attempted to keep going, all I would find forever are these breathtaking structures. And it made me realise how small I am, but not in a negative way. Just that, it made my problems seem smaller, more manageable, I suppose. And as I was standing there, looking out across the canyon, I couldn’t help but imagine what other wonders are out there on other planets? If there are canyons out in the universe which would put this one to shame? Mountains and waterfalls and deserts and a whole host of other marvels that I cannot even begin to imagine, that I will never experience, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re still out there and that they are still beautiful.”

And as Stern stops talking, he finally looks up and his eyes momentarily go wide, jaw hanging slightly, as he notices that along with Marcella, Kay and Harlan, about five other sylphs have gathered around to listen to him, and Stern’s face immediately flushes, his right hand going over to fiddle with his watch. “But ah, yes. You should visit someday. It’s very nice.”

Marcella’s smile dips down into something else, something sadder. “I’d like that.”

“What other places have you been?” Harlan asks, leaning forward in his seat.

“Have you ever seen the ocean?”

At this, Barclay turns to Kay. “Hey, I’ve seen the ocean, you know?”

“Yeah but you just described it as big and blue and then complained about the sand.”

Barclay can’t help but laugh because yeah  _ maybe _ he talked a bit too much about the sand, but after spending so long trying to get it out of his fur, he feels entitled to complain about it a bit. Some of the others join in to and Barclay can feel Stern’s hand relaxing in his own.

“So yes, I have seen the ocean, although I must agree with Barclay that the sand is far more trouble than it’s worth . . .”

And just like that, the couches become a hub of telling stories of places travelled. Ned tells more and more outrageous tales until finally ends up regalling the gathered group about the time he supposedly wandered backstage during a Broadway production of CATS and was ‘gifted’ a few of their props. At one point, Aubrey wanders over, her magician’s outfit already on and ready for her performance, and talks about how she used to visit Puerto Rico every year as a kid to see her grandparents. Mama even joins in, saying about the time she was up in Canada and some asshole tried to get her to do a sculpture for free in exchange for ‘exposure’.

All the while, Moira gently eases the piano keys into an old song from Sylvain, the music drifting through the room like the smell of freshly baked bread, soft and warm and so much like home it almost hurts. Dani and Duck are putting last minute decorations on their Candlenights bush that Duck helped pick out himself from a store down in Kepler after he made them promise to not go chopping at the flora in the forest. And through it all, Barclay’s hand never leaves Stern as the other man laughs along to jokes, even tells a few of his own, and just generally seems so happy.

It’s nice.

Nicer than Barclay could have ever imagined.

And he never wants it to end.

“Hey, Joseph?” Dani calls, her hands behind her back. “So uh, this being your first Candlenights and all, the rest of the Lodge-”

“Sans the Bigfoot Brigade, they suck!” Aubrey yells over her shoulder as she tries to slip Dr. Harris Bonkers into his sweater.

Dani nods. “Yes, all the Lodge sans Bigfoot Brigade, we got you a gift.” And then from behind her, Dani has a nicely wrapped present and hands it to Stern. “Happy Candlenights.”

Around them, the others also join in with their own “Happy Candlenights” but Stern doesn’t seem to notice. Instead he’s staring wide-eyed at the present, blinking like he’s sure it'll disappear when he opens his eyes again.

“Oh this- This is so nice, thank you. I ah- I didn’t get you all anything though . . .”

“There’s like twenty-eight of us, you’re good!” Marcella assures. “Now, c’mon! Open it!”

Stern swallows thickly and begins painstakingly unwrapping the gift, finally easing the top off the box to reveal a blanket with the pattern of trees across it, interrupted only by the outline of Bigfoot every so often. Slowly, Stern runs his fingers across the soft fabric.

“This is- Thank you all so much. You’re too kind.” Still holding the blanket, Stern stands. “Let me just go put this in my room, I’ll be right back.”

Then without looking behind him, Stern quickly retreats up to his room before anyone can say a word.

And let it be known that they all really gave him the benefit of the doubt that he would ‘be right back’ until it’s ten minutes later and the agent is still gone.

“So he’s like . . . He’s totally not coming back right?”

“Maybe he was offended by the gift? Thought we were making fun of him?”

Barclay doesn’t take his eyes off the hallway Stern went too. “I don’t- I don’t know. Think he may have. . . I’ll go check on him.” Grabbing some mugs of hot cider for the two of them first, he makes his way through the gathered sylphs until he too reaches the hallway and starts climbing the steps, the muffled sounds of the celebration below coupled with the dead quiet of the hallway gives Barclay an odd sense of unease. He really hopes Stern wasn’t offended by the gift. The others had even come to ask Barclay if he thought Stern would like it (and if it would be weird giving him a blanket with Barclay technically on it) and he had given it the go-ahead. Maybe he was wrong though? Fuck and things were going so well beforehand.

Finally, Barclay reaches Stern’s room and gently raps on the door. “Hey Joseph? It’s Barclay, can I come in?”

“Yes, the door is unlocked.”

When he walks in, Barclay is immediately hit with a blast of cold air from the wide-open door leading out onto the veranda. Just barely illuminated by the lights from the room is Stern, standing outside and leaning on the railing as he gazes out at the dark forest beyond the lodge. 

He remains silent as Barclay enters.

As he walks across the room, Barclay faintly registers that he’s never actually seen Stern’s room before and it’s . . . Well, from what Barclay can see, there’s nothing changed about the room since Stern moved in. No photographs or mementos sit on the bedside table or drawers. From the slightly ajar closet, it doesn’t even look like Stern’s hung up his clothes, and when he glances into the bathroom, he doesn’t see any personal toiletries on the sink.

It looks like he’s ready to move out at any moment.

But Barclay doesn’t have time to think about that, and instead slips out onto the veranda. Stern still doesn’t turn around.

“Hey, uh . . . Look, I . . I’m sorry about the blanket. They weren’t trying to make fun of you for looking for Bigfoot or anything, but I should have known you wouldn’t like it. I mean, you barely like talking about your work and also-”

“Whoa what?” Stern rushes to say, finally turning to him and now Barclay can see the blanket in his hands. “Oh lord, how long have I been gone? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be absent for so long, my thoughts just got away from me I suppose.”

“So . . You do like the present?”

“Barclay, I love it. I just . . .” He turns back towards the forest. As he pauses, Barclay offers him the mug of cider which he gladly accepts. After he takes a long sip, he finally speaks. “The last time I actually celebrated the holidays would have been ten years ago now. The Christmas before my mother passed away. After that, I never had anyone to share the holidays with and celebrating on my own, it felt lonelier than not celebrating at all. So actually celebrating this year? Having people to share this with? It feels so foriegn, so alien, but not bad though. Quite the opposite. It feels incredible, so incredible it hurts.”

“What do you mean?”

Stern sighs, his fingers tracing patterns on the wood railing. “There is a large chance that I won’t be . . . That I won’t be here next Candlenights. And it feels almost cruel to finally be a part of something, only to know the odds of it not lasting.”

“Joseph . . . If you want to stay, then stay. Or if you do have to leave for your job, you can come and visit us. You’ll always be welcome at Amnesty, you know that right?”

And while Barclay thought that this would make things better, from the way Stern shakes his head, mouth trying to form words that his brain won’t make, it may have made things worse. “Please . . . Please don’t,” Stern says softly, suddenly sounding so tired.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t get my hopes up. Because if I don’t find Bigfoot within the next two months, I can’t stay in Kepler. I’ll have to leave. And I won’t be able to come back.”

The moments Barclay takes to process the words aren’t nearly enough and when he speaks, its with half-formed ideas and feelings he can barely name. “What do you mean you won’t be able to come back? Because of your job? Joseph, do you even like your job? I mean, you’re exhausted all the time now from how hard you overexert yourself. And you’re willing to work with Dale now? Why still do it? Why is finding Bigfoot so important to you?”

Stern runs through a hand through his hair in a jerky motion. “You don’t- You don’t understand. I  _ have _ to find Bigfoot. I just have to. If I don’t, then everything I have done, all the work I have put in this last decade, it will have all been for nothing. And I can’t let that happen, Barclay. I  _ won’t _ let that happen. No matter what.”

“So nothing is more important than your mission?” Barclay’s words are sharp and he swears he feels blood pooling in his mouth from them. “Than finding Bigfoot for your bosses?

“Yes.”

Barclay nearly flinches at such a short word, the single syllable piercing his heart. “So the Lodge? Me? We’re all not as important as bringing in Bigfoot to the FBI?”

“What? No! That’s not what I- You’re not listening to me. Finding Bigfoot is important  _ because _ you are all important to me.”

And as much as Barclay doesn’t want to be having this argument, no matter how badly he wants to take Stern back down to the party, give him his gift, kiss under the mistletoe, he can’t. He just can’t.

“But you would still pick finding Bigfoot over us? Wouldn’t you?”

“I . . .” The forest and the mountains all stand still, the wind waiting with bated breath for the answer. Then, Stern glances away, and somehow that hurts more. The fact that he can’t even look him in the eyes when he says it. “Yes. I’m sorry, but yes.”

With his answer, the forest and the mountains and the wind let go of their silence as a cacophony of footsteps and yells suddenly breaks the night, and through it, one voice from the trees below comes out as clear as day:

“I did it! I got Bigfoot on video!”

And whatever the voice says next is drowned out by the twin shattering of both Barclay and Stern’s mugs crashing to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not a ThePlace fic if a lodge gathering doesn't end badly!
> 
> But yeah, originally, Barclay was just suppoed to go get Stern, bring him back down, and then everyone would watch the magic show and the argument would happen later, but as I was writing it, the argument just came so naturally that I switched some things around.
> 
> I've also decided that writing fake song lyrics for Candlenights is Very Fun


	13. Are You Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's funny how a video of Bigfoot is what brought Stern to Kepler in the first place, and a video of Bigfoot might just be the thing that drives him out too.

“There! Pause it there! Look at the limb proportions! It has to be a Bigfoot!”

“Could be a bear though.”

“A bear? Think you should stick with podcasts there, friend. No way a bears running upright at forty miles a fucking hour.”

As the Bigfoot hunters crowd around Buck’s laptop that he’s propped up on his truck bed, Stern stands behind them, staring blankly at the screen, mind screaming and voice silent.

The video is only about five seconds long, but it feels like it lasts eight hours. Amidst a background of trees, painted over with the fuzzy whites and muted blacks of night vision, the peaceful scene is quickly interrupted by a towering figure sprinting past the camera.

There’s no mistaking it for anything other than Bigfoot.

There’s no mistaking it for anybody other than himself.

Stern expected to feel sick. He doesn’t though. He doesn’t feel anything at all but a faint numbness seeping through his veins as he watches the video on repeat.

Is this what the other sylph felt like when the video of them surfaced?

Like the world is crashing down around them?

“Pretty great, ain’t it?” Buck preens as he gestures to the video. “Course it is. Honestly, I think it might be some of the best ‘squatch footage ever captured. Might as well throw the Patterson-Gimlin film right in the garbage. What do you think they’ll call this? The Foss Film? Yeah, probably the Foss Film. I mean, this is the discovery of a lifetime, ain’t it? As soon as ol’ Dale here showed me those ‘squatch tracks he found in the woods, well I thought to myself,  _ hey Dale _ ,  _ you got those fancy motion sensor cameras out in the woods don’t ya?  _ So I hurried on out there and you know what I found? Well a lot of deer, but also this beauty! Really gotta thank ya there Dale! I woulda forgotten about these cameras without ya!”

And despite everything, despite the world crashing down around him, Stern still smirks at the way Dale’s face turns nearly purple, veins bulging out on his neck, and knuckles turning white. 

No one’s going to remember the guy who just found the footprints and they all know it. 

“Glad I could help,” Dale gets out through gritted teeth as he pulls his hat down farther on his head. 

“What y’all reckon this thing is clocking in at?” Gordan asks the gathered group, oblivious to the tension filling the air. “Eleven feet? Twelve feet? I’m bettin’ at least eleven feet myself.”

Eight feet. He’s about eight feet tall.

Tammy shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s hard to tell. Maybe if we went back out to where you got the footage and set the camera back up, we could get a sense of scale compared to us? I mean, it’s huge, no matter what. Maybe even a bit bigger than the one in Chicane’s video?”

“You think they’re different ‘squatches?”

“Could be mates? Maybe that’s why it's running? Gotta get back to the nest? Take care of the young ones?

Stern feels like he just injected lemon juice straight into veins as his face twists and scrunches. Dear God, how can this get any worse?

“Oh could you imagine if we got footage of a baby Bigfoot?” Gordan asks, a wide smile on his face. “Tammy, didn’t we set up some cameras in that part of the woods a few months back? Maybe we caught something too!

“Oh I’ve got plenty more cameras out there is those woods, haven’t been able to check ‘em yet though, just got the footage from this one.” Buck pats his camera. “Got too dark and they’re too high up to get the others. First thing in the morning though, I’ll go get ‘em.”

“We will too! Oh this is so exciting! What a great finale this will be to The Search for the Notorious B.I.G Foot if we actually got footage!”

Oh.

Fuck.

That’s how it can get worse.

Because if they got more footage of him in his sylph form? Well it's not ideal, far from it, but he can manage.

But if they got footage of him taking off or putting on his watch? It's not like he can change how his disguise looks. That would take too much energy, energy he doesn’t have. Could he get out of Kepler before they come for him? The FBI would surely get involved. Not like the other hunters have any reason to not hand over the footage. And even if he did manage to escape Kepler, that would mean leaving behind any chance of finding the other sylph. Going feral would be an inevitable fate of which he can’t escape.

Okay, now he does feel sick.

“What about you Agent Stern?”

Blinking slowly, Stern realises that the others are all staring at him. He doesn't have the energy to care anymore. “Pardon?”

Buck scoffs. “Asked if ya got cameras out in the woods? But of course you do. Bet you got some advanced FBI tech not even on the market. Drones? Ya got drones? Yeah, FBI definitely gave ya drones. Why don’t ya use them? Actually help out for once? Honestly, can’t ya call in more agents? Help us scour the woods? Could probably get yourself a big pay raise by bagging a whole family of ‘squatches.”

And in that split second between Buck’s last word and Stern’s first, he thinks back to his mother’s laugh as she discovered some new wonder of life on Earth, throwing her hands up in delight every time a plane would fly overhead no matter how many times it happened, the way his father would come home from the store and gather everyone around to show them some new fruit he had discovered. But he also remembers the days right after his father had died, when his mother wouldn’t come out of her room and Stern had to come in and gently lift up her head and slip the crystal necklace onto her every night as she muffled her sobs now that the love of her life who had always been by her side even as they had been banished was now gone from her. And years later, when his mother had joined his father, Stern remembers how unbearably quiet and cold the house had been.

He doesn’t even have any pictures of them.

And with these memories coiling around his heart and squeezing, Stern looks at the gathered Bigfoot Hunters who would gladly see his head mounted on a wall.

“Fuck off.”

As the others gasp, Stern nearly turns on his heel and storms away, but you know what? No. Months of saying nothing finally boils over and Stern has had enough. “You are all are just- _Awful._ You don’t care about this forest, perfectly content to leave your garbage strewn about, to damage the trees in pursuit of finding Bigfoot. And to what end? So you can murder a sasquatch? So you can kill a creature that just wants to be left alone? Does it bring you some sort of sick pleasure imagining capturing a whole family of them? Is that how you want to be remembered? The people who took one of the rarest creatures on Earth and either locked it in some zoo or shot it? I shouldn’t be surprised though. No. You barely have respect for your fellow human beings, let alone something you don’t understand. So to answer your question, no I will not help you. In fact, if we never spoke again it would be all too soon.” And with that, Stern does actually turn on his heel and strides away, leaving them standing there balking at him. If that drew too much attention to him or if it was rude, Stern doesn’t care. They’ve all been far ruder to staff at Amnesty anyways. 

Stern glances up to the Lodge. Through the window he can see that the party is dying down, far less people crowd the lobby and the sound of Moira playing the piano now gone. Having someone barge in screaming about a Bigfoot video probably did little to bring out the Candlenights mood.

Or maybe Barclay told them about the argument.

How he wishes he could tell Barclay the truth. The thought that he thinks that Stern doesn’t care about him sends his stomach into knots. But . . . But finding the other sylph truly is the most important thing. No matter how much he loves Barclay. And it’s not like he can just say, oh by the way, I’m Bigfoot and also an alien, but I’m also going to lose all my humanity soon and turn completely feral.

That would go great. 

Sighing, Stern walks away from the Lodge and into the woods once he’s far away from the Bigfoot hunters sight. As he delves deeper and deeper into the woods, eyes trained on the trees looking for cameras, the image of Barclay’s face when Stern ran downstairs to go see the video replays in his head. 

His face had drained of color, breath all but stopped, mouth hanging open.

Barclay must have seen that as the nail in the coffin, huh? That Stern would always put finding Bigfoot over everything else. God, Barclay doesn’t even believe in Bigfoot. What must it be like to think you’re playing second fiddle to a creature that doesn’t exist?

As the trees close in around him, Stern realises that all he has to protect him from the cold is the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing for the party as the snow barely begins to drift down from the sky and join the blanket of white already covering the ground. He’s thankful that his shirt provides a barrier between his necklace and his skin, as the iciness would surely bite as much as the cold from where his watch meets his skin.

The snow harshly crunches under his feet as he comes to a stop at the sight of a camera bolted high in a tree. This was around where he made the tracks. He can’t say for certain whether or not it got footage of him.

Well . . .

He picks up a rock.

Better safe than sorry.

With all his strength, he hurls the rock up at the camera and watches as it hits its mark, the camera toppling to the ground in a crumpled heap. For an extra measure, he goes over, picks it up and proceeds to smash it against a tree. Sure, with the radio quiet zone the cameras might not be able to upload anything to the cloud, but there’s no way he’s risking anybody being able to salvage the memory of this thing. 

Breath heavy, Stern looks down at the remnants of the camera and then looks back up at the trees, jaw clenched and shoulders squared.

One down.

Dozens more to go.

And so in dead silence, Stern scours the towering trees for cameras, systematically and meticulously destroying every last one of them. Even one camera left is a risk he is not willing to take. The bottoms of his pants are soaked from the snow, his shirt drenched with sweat. But he keeps going. And going and going and going until his palms are rough from the rocks and his hair covered in snow. He struggles through patches of brambles, thorns and branches catching on his clothes and the chain of necklace, and Stern has to tug himself out and just keep going.

His limbs feel sluggish.

Or maybe they don’t feel at all? 

He can’t . . . 

He can’t tell. 

He’s so tired. 

He just wants to sleep. 

But no. 

He has to get them all. 

He has to.

And eventually Stern does, hiding the evidence of the mutilated cameras. Then, he slowly makes his way back to the Lodge, feet dragging through the snow, breath coming out in short sharp bursts. When he does get back to the Lodge, the party is long since dead, the lights all off as he treads carefully through the lobby. The stage is still set-up for Aubrey’s magic show, the streamers hanging limply from the ceiling and casting odd shadows through the room. The faintest of embers flicker in the hearth. A part of him wants to tend to them, breathe the life and warmth back. Instead he continues on to his room, sidestepping the wrapping paper scattered across the floor. It must have been nice. The warm laughter echoing through the room with warm smiles accompanying them as gifts were exchanged, the fire and the guests dancing along to Moira’s songs.

Stern sighs and leaves the lobby in the dark as he climbs the stairs to his room.

He never got to give Barclay his Candlenights gift. 

Unlocking his door, Stern does his best to avoid looking at the shards of the mugs still out on the veranda, the cider inside frozen on the wood.

He’ll deal with that mess come morning.

For now, he just wants to sleep.

So, Stern shucks off his pants and shirt and goes to slide his suitcase from under his bed to grab his pajamas when an odd sensation overtakes him. It’s the sensation you feel when you pick up your bag and realise it's lighter than it should be. The feeling of grabbing the wrong glass and expecting it to be full, but it's actually empty.

It’s the sensation of absence.

Slowly, ever so slowly, like if he waits just a few moments longer the truth will change, Stern drags his eyes down to his necklace . . .

. . . And hanging off the silver chain, is nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The full title of this chapter is "Are You Tired Of Being Nice? Don't You Just Wanna Go Apeshit?"


	14. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barclay makes a decision.

The shadows ebb and flow across Barclay’s ceiling as he stares up at them blankly. He could go and turn off the outside lights reflecting off the hot springs and bring an end to the shadows, but he knows it wouldn’t bring him sleep. At least with this, he has something to look at while his brain tries to sort through everything for a solution he knows isn’t there.

Stern . . . He really won’t stop until he finds Bigfoot. Sure, he said that all he wanted was to make contact, but what then? As if the FBI will be okay with just making contact and then going on their merry way. And if completing his mission is really more important than the Lodge, than Barclay, then there’s no future where he could just tell Stern the truth and have everything work out. 

Oh and the video. His fingers curl in the sheets ‘til his knuckles go white.  _ That fucking video _ . Barclay hasn’t seen it. Not sure he even wants to see it. Doesn’t know if he can even take letting the Lodge down again by being seen. It must have been when they were fighting the goat minions. The Bigfoot Brigade must have put a camera up in a tree, caught him running to go help the others. He’s such an idiot! None of the other sylphs get caught as much as he does. Not like there’s urban legends around West Virginia of a bipedal harp seal drinking surge and doing a wheelie, just Barclay wandering around the woods. This is bound to bring more hunters, Stern might even need to call in backup. 

Dragging a hand down his face, Barclay sighs.

How could Candlenights go so wrong so fast?

_ Slam! _

Barclay’s body jolts upright in bed at the solid piercing noise of a door upstairs slamming against a wall reaches him. Before his feet even touch the floor, thundering footsteps echo through the Lodge, rushing above him before careening down the staircase and if the second slam of a door is anything to go by, out into the back of the Lodge.

Well, that can’t be good.

Barclay scrambles to slip into some shoes before rushing to the backdoor of his room and out onto the veranda. The light from the hot springs slightly throws off his night vision, but he’s still able to make out the figure of Agent Stern making a mad-dash across the grass and straight into the woods, no light to guide him.

Okay that’s defintely not fucking good.

Quickly hopping over the railing, Barclay sprints after him and into the darkness. Their argument and the uncertainties of their future together aside, Barclay still loves Stern. If he’s in trouble, Barclay has to help him. 

Which would be easier if Stern wasn’t so fast. Seriously, how hard are they training FBI recruits?

“Joseph!” Barclay yells after him once they’re far enough away from the Lodge. “Joseph wait!”

And Stern does, skidding to a halt in the snow before turning around and Barclay takes a step back when he does. Stern’s glasses are gone, his shirt inside out and backwards. He’s not wearing shoes either. His breath comes out in short heavy bursts as his hands slightly shake. “Barclay? What are you . . . What are you doing out here?”

“What am I- Joseph, what are  _ you _ doing out here? It’s two in the morning and freezing and-” He shakes his head, not knowing what to do with his hands. “And I’m worried about you. Heard you running out here and it sounded like you were escaping a house on fire.”

“Oh, I ah, I apologize. I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just that ah, I’ve lost something. In the forest. And it is imperative that I find it immediately.”

Stern’s words tumble over each other as he rushes to say them, and his breathing is still harsh and staccato. Slowly, like he’s afraid of spooking him, Barclay takes a few steps forward until he can gently put his hands on Stern’s arm to ground him. “Joseph, hey, it’s okay. Whatever you’ve lost, I’m sure we’ll be able to find it no problem in the morning when there’s more light. Promise I’ll come search with you and everything. But for now, why don’t we both go back inside?”

“No I-” Stern raises his chin and squares his shoulders. “I can’t. I need to find it tonight. I appreciate your concern, really, I do. But . . . But the item I have lost is of great import to the FBI and if my superiors discover that I no longer have it, the consequences will be dire.”

Barclay looks into Stern’s eyes and can tell in an instant that he will not be swayed. “Alright then, how about this: I’ll go grab a flashlight and help you look? Might make things easier having some light.”

“Really? Oh thank you so much Barclay.” And then Stern pulls him into a hug. “This means a lot to me.”

“Anytime, Joseph.”

And after quickly running back to the Lodge and getting a flashlight, Barclay jogs back out into the forest only to find Stern already deep in search by the light of the moon. 

“So,” Barclay says as he flicks on the light. “What is it that we’re searching for? ‘Cause if it's a nuke, I think you legally gotta tell me.”

Stern doesn’t respond for a few moments too long as he roots around in a bush. “What? Oh uh yes, it’s a ah, it’s a crystal.”

Barclay freezes in the forest.

It can’t be . . .

“About the size of half my thumb and extremely jagged as well, as if it was broken off of something.

There’s no way . . .

“Oh and it’s a deep orange color.”

His grip on the flashlight slips and at the last moment, Barclay stops it from crashing to the forest floor. When he speaks, Barclay tries to keep his voice light and casual, and not like he’s reading off a card in a hostage situation. “And uhh, you said this crystal, it’s important to the FBI? What do they want with it?”

“That’s classified, I’m sorry. All I can say is that without it, I can’t complete my mission.”

And that- That’s what does it. That’s what confirms in Barclay’s head above all else that somehow, by some terrible strike of luck, that Stern has a shard of Sylvain.

Or well . . .  _ Had _ a shard of Sylvain.

“No worries,” Barclay manages out as he starts to scan the ground, hoping above all hope that Stern doesn’t try to look in his eyes and see the terror beginning to well up. “I’m sure we’ll find it in no time.”

“I pray we do.”

Above him, the trees loom and in the distance, creatures crawl about the forest floor, their sounds mixing in with the hurried scraping as Stern digs through the underbrush. The snow cracks under Barclay’s weight. The branches beg not to snap in the wind. Barclay’s hands shake. Where did the FBI even get a shard? How much do they know? If they understand the crystal is important to finding Bigfoot, if the FBI need it so desperately . . .

A coyote howls, lonesome and loud from the hills.

“Know where you last had this crystal of yours?” Barclay calls behind him, more to drown out the sound of his heart beating than anything else.

“I’m sure I had it before the party and I swore it was still in my possession when I came out here. But when I came back to the lodge, it was gone.”

“And uh, if you don’t mind my asking, what were you doing out here so late?”

Stern pauses.

“I just wanted to see if there was any evidence remaining from the Bigfoot sighting.”

“Was there?”

“No.”

“So the video, you think it’s real?”

When Stern speaks, it comes out stilted and heavy, like he’s trying to tug the words out from under rubble. “Without a doubt in my mind.”

“Oh.”

“Have you seen the video?”

“No. Still don’t really believe in any of that stuff.”

“Oh.”

They go quiet but the forest does not. Usually, the sounds of the trees swaying in the wind are a comfort, but now, it just sounds like they’re about to come crashing in around him.

“May I ask why?”

By now, Barclay has drifted a bit ways away from Stern as his eyes dart across the ground faster and faster, desperate for any hint of orange, so Stern’s voice is quiet and distant. For a few moments, Barclay busies himself by looking between a tree's roots before speaking. “Just not enough evidence I guess. Besides, what's the point of believing? Not gonna change anything about my life.”

“I don’t know. I find that believing in things despite the odds against them is important. It keeps me going.”

This time, Barclay doesn’t respond. Just keeps on searching the endless woods for a crystal no bigger than the pad of his thumb. It feels like searching for an abomination but instead of the abomination seeking them out, it hides out in one of the many cracks and crevices scattered across Kepler, waiting out the clock. But at least with abominations, Barclay knows how much time is left until shit hits the fan. With the crystal though, how long would the FBI wait before flooding Kepler with agents to find it? If it's that important to them, what lengths would they go to get it back? But what’s worse? Having FBI swarm Kepler looking for the crystal, or letting them have it?

Well, if they don’t find the crystal, there won’t be a choice to make anyways.

And then there’s Stern. Glancing back through the trees, Barclay sees him stepping from root to root as he fiddles with his watch and continues the search. He doesn’t want to see him get in trouble with his superiors and lying to him about being Bigfoot is bad enough, makes Barclay’s blood curdle everytime he thinks about it. But this? With all of Sylvain on the line? And what if Stern thinks they’re all a threat? That Barclay’s feelings weren’t sincere and that he was just trying to keep him distracted?

Or what if Barclay just tells him he’s Bigfoot?

In the darkness, he can see Stern so clearly.

He could explain Sylvain.

Fingers brush against his bracelet.

Tell him why he can’t tell the FBI about them.

It’d be so easy to unclasp it.

Pray he listens.

And then in the darkness, a flash of orange glints in the beam of his light and Barclay freezes like the night. 

Buried part away in the snow, amongst a thicket of thorns, is without a shadow of a doubt a shard of Sylvain. He takes hesitant steps towards it. Then, through the brambles, Barclay reaches in and gently plucks it from the ground like it was a newborn infant. It’s as he holds it in his hands, looking down at the edges and faces so like his own shard, that Barclay makes a decision.

“Hey Joseph?” Barclay calls out across the woods, stomach in knots so tight he’d have to take a knife to them to get them out.

“Yes?”

Barclay takes in a shuddering breath . . .

And then shoves the crystal deep in his pocket.

“I’m not seeing it. Maybe you dropped it at the party? And one of the others picked it up? Why don’t we ask them in the morning?”

From across the clearing, Barclay watches as Stern’s shoulder’s drop. “I- Yes. You’re probably right. I probably just misplaced it at the party and failed to notice.”

Barclay makes his way over to Stern where he stands still and silent in the forest and rubs his hands up Stern’s arms. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything will turn out alright.”

“I hope so.”

With that, the two of them make their way back to the Lodge. The crystal burning a hole in Barclay’s pocket the whole time. Finally though, they make it up to Stern’s room. However, Stern’s eyes seem distant, unfocused, and by Sylvain does he look exhausted. 

“Why don’t you get some rest, huh? No use losing sleep over it.”

Stern nods, hand still twisting around his watch. For a moment he glances away, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. Then he glances back to his watch and then up to Barclay. “I ah-” He sighs. “Thank you for looking with me Barclay. I hope you sleep well.”

“You too.”

And as Stern opens the door and steps inside, the sight of the two shattered mugs on the veranda greets them both.

“Oh,” Stern says and there’s so much packed into that little word. “I should clean that up.”

“Don’t worry, we can deal with that in the morning.”

Then Stern nods hesitantly as he glances back and forth between Barclay and the mugs. And as Stern steps inside and closes the door, Barclay’s smile melts off his face as he glances at the gap between the door and the frame at the hinges and swears he sees a giant spidering crack in the wood where the handle meets the door.

But as quick as he sees it, it’s also gone as the door fully shuts, leaving Barclay standing in the hallway, crystal heavy in his pocket and on his conscience.

He’s got to tell someone.

Hurrying down the hallway, footsteps as light as possible, Barclay finds himself outside Mama’s room rapping on her door as he glances up and down the corridor. From the other side of the door, he hears a muffled “Hold your horses,” before the door opens to reveal Mama standing there, eyelids half open and hair a mess.

“Barclay?” She rubs a hand across her face. “It’s three in the morning, what’s wrong?”

“Joseph knows about Sylvain.”

And just like that, Mama’s eyes fly open as she glances down at the shard in Barclay’s palm.

“ _ Well, shit. _ ”

* * *

“Maybe he doesn’t know what it is?”

Barclay shakes his head as he paces the small confines of Mama’s office. Duck, Aubrey and Ned are all sat on the chairs, still clad in pajamas, staring up at him. “No. You should’ve seen him, should’ve heard him. He was . . . He was so panicked when he realised that he had lost the crystal, said it’s extremely valuable to the FBI and that he needs it to complete his mission. But for him to know that the shard is connected to Bigfoot, he would have to know at least something about Sylvain. 

“And you’re sure it's a piece of Sylvain?” Aubrey asks. “Cause um . . . Well my mom used to have a necklace that looked like that and I’m pretty sure it was just some quartz.”

Ned starts rigorously inspecting the armrest of his seat as Aubrey speaks, but Barclay doesn’t have time to decipher the grimace on his face. “I’m sure. I can feel the magic in it, just like my one, though it's pretty weak.”

“And he hasn’t seen yours, has he?” Mama asks.

“No. I keep it locked up in my room.”

“Good.”

Duck leans forward in his chair, hands clasped in front of him.“Where would the FBI even get a crystal? Y’all don’t think they’ve made it through the gate, do you?”

“No, no I don’t think so. If they knew where the gate was, Kepler would already be swarmed with FBI agents. But maybe they’re looking for it?” Barclay swallows thickly, trying to push the words back down in the dark. “Maybe that’s why they want to find Bigfoot. To help them find the gate.”

Shifting in his seat, Ned nods. “It makes an unfortunate amount of sense truth be told. Think about it, our federal agent friend never used the same tactics touted by the Bigfoot Brigade. While that lot was all out in the forests, Stern was interviewing seemingly every citizen of Kepler who would speak to him. Perhaps, if he knows of the crystal, he also knows of the disguise charms?”

“I fuckin’ hope not.” Mama stands up from her desk, looking between them all. “Cause all this combined would mean that the FBI somehow managed to get their hands on a sylph, got ‘em to spill the beans on Sylvain, and that thought’s gonna keep me up at night, true or not.”

“Well now, hold on,” Aubrey starts, extinguishing the small flame in her hand. “I’m  _ pretty  _ sure we would’ve noticed if someone from the Lodge got straight up kidnapped.”

Duck makes a little ‘ehhhhhh’ sound like even he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say. “Thing is though, gate wasn’t always here, now was it? Leo told me it used to be up in New York some thirty years ago. If a sylph came out there and the FBI got to ‘em . . .”

Barclay doesn’t remember the last time he breathed, feels like if he does he’ll cough out cobwebs and dust.

Her grip on her cane tightening, Mama sighs. “So what’s the plan here y’all? Cause we gotta do somethin’.”

And all at once, eight eyes turn to Barclay. 

“I- Look, I still refuse to believe Stern’s some bad guy or something. Think he honestly believes that he’s doing the right thing. I mean, we got into an argument last night, and . . . Well he said that finding Bigfoot is the most important thing to him. It sounds like he really thinks that he’ll be protecting the Lodge if he finds Bigfoot. Maybe the FBI’s deemed sylphs a threat? Maybe he thinks that finding Bigfoot will help him take out the gate? I don’t- I don’t know. Joseph just seems so set on finding Bigfoot, I don’t think anything will change his mind.” Barclay pauses, wishing that this was just a nightmare he could wake up from. If he just screws his eyes shut and opens them again, he’ll be back in bed looking up at the shadows shifting across his ceiling. But when he blinks, Barclay is still standing in Mama’s office, his friends all watching him as he barely manages to get the words out. “We need to make him think the original video of me was fake.”

Mama’s gaze softens. “Barclay, if Stern thinks that video was a hoax . . .”

“Then he might leave Kepler? Yeah, I know. But what other choice do we have? If the FBI knows that sasquatch is a sylph and they need a sylph to find Sylvain or whatever they’re doing, then they’ll have no reason to keep looking in Kepler if they think that the video was just some guy in a costume. It’ll draw attention away from us, make it less likely they find the gate.”

And just thinking of this, just saying the words, it feels like a brand on his heart with the sizzling smoke threatening to rise out of his chest and pour out his nose and mouth. 

But it has to be done.

The room goes quiet and in solidarity the wind does to.

“How would we do it?” Aubrey finally asks, slipping out of the silence. “Cause Stern’s a smart guy, it’ll take a lot to convince him that the video is fake.”

Ned clears his throat. “I might actually have an idea on that, thought it up back when we first wanted to rid ourselves of-” He glances over to Barclay and quickly clears his throat. “Apologies. But ah, my question is: Those nifty disguise charms of yours, would it be possible to make another?”

“Yeah, Dani could make one. She’s real good at it.”

“Could young Dani make it look like anything?”

“Yeah?”

“And could the disguise charm work on an inanimate object?”

Barclay’s eyes narrow. “Probably. What are you getting at Ned?”

And then Ned lays out his plan to them all, but the usual signature Ned Chicane flourishes, like how he waves his hands and puts on a sufficiently dramatic drawl, they’re all gone. What’s left is just a plan told by a tired man to a tired audience. None of them feel good about it. Not because it’s a bad plan. In fact, it’s pretty good. It might honestly work. But the thought of tricking Stern, it leaves a lingering foul taste in their mouths, like a bitter medicine they must swallow.

“So,” Mama starts looking directly at Barclay. And whereas a few months ago, she would probably be smiling at the thought of getting one over on an FBI agent, now, she looks at Barclay likes she’s trying to convey every apology possible. “What do you think?”

It’s that moment where Barclay realises the decision comes down to him. He’s both grateful and wishes anybody else would pull the trigger. And when he speaks, Barclay tries not to think of Stern’s laugh when Barclay would crack some joke, the noises bordering on obscene when he dug into blueberry pancakes, he definitely doesn’t want to think of how supportive Stern was when Barclay spoke about his feelings over Mama leaving or how talking to him about anything from how their days were to what they want out of the future was something Barclay looked forward to everyday. But most of all, Barclay tries not to think about the feeling of Stern’s lips against his as the carnival lights twinkled around them when he says his next words.

“Let’s do it.”


	15. Promises, Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stern has one last chance.

The crystal is gone.

It’s gone.

It’s just gone.

All these years he’s spent with it at his side, all the hushed warnings his parents told him of it’s import, and Stern goes and loses it like a pair of cheap headphones.

He wants to pace his room, to let the steady click of his shoes on the wood ease his mind, but the thought of expending any extra energy makes his breath catch in his throat. So instead, he just slumps against his chair and watches fat flakes of snow come crashing down onto the shards of the mugs still lying outside.

Yesterday night was the three day mark since losing his crystal, the longest he’s ever gone without wearing it. And no matter how long he searched those woods or asked any of the Lodge residents if they had seen it, Stern always turned up empty handed. Saying he’s tired feels like saying a man without water for weeks is thirsty. Stern has stumbled past tired and beyond exhausted into something more. His bones feel as if they’ve been replaced with lead, his muscles threatening to slough right off them. Each breath is rough and short like little grains of sand slipping down an hourglass.

And that hourglass is quickly running out. 

He probably won’t make it past today.

No.

He  _ knows  _ he won’t make it past today.

Before the sun sets, he’ll be gone and the thing that will take his place . . 

Stern shudders despite his blood feeling like acid.

He has to do something. If he stays here, there’s no telling what he’ll do once he turns, who he’ll hurt. And in that moment, Stern thinks back to the book his mother would read to him as a child and the monster within it. He remembers how it tore across the pages, destroying houses and attacking villagers before it was finally killed. Will that be him in a few hours? 

That more than anything makes his stomach churn. 

He won’t- He can’t let that happen. Stern won’t put people’s lives at risk. 

Steadying himself on the chair as he makes a shaky stand, Stern forgoes his coat and just slips on his shoes. His only hope now is finding the other sylph. Ned’s video- There must be something he missed. Some clue still hiding in the footage that will lead Stern to the other sylph. If he can just get Ned to show him the full video again, then maybe, just maybe Stern can save himself yet.

As he leaves his room, he doesn’t bother locking the door and just starts down the hallway. Luckily, Stern doesn’t pass anyone else. He doesn’t know if they would comment on the hollowness of his eyes or the shakiness of his gait. He doesn’t know what he would tell them either. But as he clutches to the railing and descends the stairs, he finally takes notice of the gently flowing music coming from the piano mixed in with far-off laughter and the homely smell wafting from the kitchen. Someone is humming a tune he can’t quite place and the warm lights provide just as much light as the fire crackling in the hearth.

It feels like home and that thought in itself makes Stern’s heart crack. 

Shouldn’t it be some dark and dreary day? With no sound in the Lodge except his pounding heart? It all feels too normal. Too happy for what might happen. But maybe it won’t? Maybe he’ll be able to come back tonight and enjoy Barclay’s freshly baked bread, discuss with Marcella other places he’s travelled across the country, watch Aubrey’s magic show.

Maybe he’ll be alright.

With a shuddering breath, Stern moves towards the door and does his best to not draw attention to himself.

“Afternoon, Joseph,” Barclay calls from the kitchen and Stern does his best not to flinch. “You headed out?”

Taking a moment to ensure his voice doesn’t crack, Stern doesn’t turn around when he responds. “Yes. I ah- I have business to attend to. I’m . . . unsure if I’ll be back tonight.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll leave the front door unlocked for you.”

Stern swallows thickly. He wants to go to Barclay, get one last kiss, see his face one last time if this all goes wrong. But he can’t. Barclay would know something was amiss and would try to make him stay at the Lodge or god forbid try to take him to a hospital. So instead, Stern keeps his fingers curled tight around the doorknob, eyes forward as he calls back. “And Barclay? Has anyone- Did anyone find the ah, the crystal?”

“Uh . . . No. No one’s seen it.”

“Alright . . . Well I’ll . . . I’ll be off then. Hopefully I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah, stay warm out there, Joseph.”

“I’ll try.”

And then, Stern leaves the Lodge and tries not to think of whether it will be for the last time or not.

The drive down to the Cryptonomica is a slow one as Stern fights to keep his hands from shaking as he grips the wheel. Eyes glued to the road ahead, Stern ignores the row of abandoned resorts that turned up empty, the posters for the ghost tours that he never got to go on are barely blurs in the corner of his eye and the shop that always gives Stern an extra bigfoot bear claw when he stops in serve as nothing but a reminder of what he’ll lose. 

Finally though, he sloppily pulls into a parking space at the Cryptonomica and stumbles out of his car. The only other car in the lot is Ned’s new van. Good. He doesn’t have the time to deal with other visitors today. The bell above the door gives off a harsh chime and from the back of the room, Ned jovially calls out. “Welcome to the Cryptonomica! The number one spot for the paranormal and lovers of the-” He turns around and as soon as he meets Stern’s gaze, Ned takes a step back. “Agent Stern? Are you alright?”

Stern tries to right himself as he steps further into the museum. “I’m- I’m fine. I just . . . I need to see the video. The full video. Again. Right now.”

“Well how about you sit down first, hmm? Do you want a glass of water? Here I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“I don’t  _ need _ a glass of water. I  _ need _ you to show me the video. Just- Just one more time. There has to- There’s something I missed. I know it.”

Ned sighs. “I can’t-”

“ _ Show me the video, Ned! _ ” The words come out too harsh, too loud, too close to a growl and Stern despises it. Across the room, Ned’s eyes are wide and his knuckles are white on his cane. Closing his eyes, Stern tries to calm himself. Tries to regain control. “Please,” he manages to get out, voice steady as it's going to get. He fumbles for his FBI badge, but when he tries to hold it up, it slips from his fingers and falls to the floor. His picture stares up at him mockingly. “Just let me see the video.”

Ned leans his cane up against the countertop and puts out his hands in front of him, like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Joseph, I’ll show you the video, but I need to tell you something first. That video, it’s fake. I faked the whole thing.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying to you, that video is fake. All of it.” Ned comes out from behind the counter, as he gestures around the Cryptonomica. “Look around you! Everything here is a lie, just some scheme I did to make a quick buck! Hell, my jackalope’s just a rabbit I glued antlers onto and my Loch Ness monster scales are just from a fish dinner I had once! That video, it was just another lie. But this one . . . Well, it got out of hand.”

Stern shakes his head. “No. Everything else here might be some fabrication, but . . . But I  _ know _ that video is real. I know it.”

Ned sighs. “While I admire your belief, it’s misplaced. I’m telling you I faked that video, and I can prove it.” And then he walks back behind the counter and goes over to a locked door at the side of the room, gesturing for Stern to follow him. And as he does, Stern tries his best to hide how much he’s leaning on the countertops. Once he gets to the door, Ned unlocks it and Stern finds himself in a smaller room with some boxes of merchandise and cleaning equipment scattered around. However, what really catches his eye is another door inside with a set of impressive locks going up it. Ned fiddles with his keys for a second before one by one opening the locks and Stern has to stop himself from just ripping the door right off its hinges because he  _ doesn’t have time for this. _ Finally though, the door opens and Stern takes a moment to simply stare at this room’s contents. Like in the front of the museum, there are rows of display cases, however, instead of cryptid evidence, these contain . . . Everything. There’s jewelry and weapons and a fucking  _ Oscar _ of all things. However, Ned walks by all of those without a second thought and makes a beeline to the back of the room. It’s only when he’s in front of a towering display case covered in a thick cloth does he stop, and then, without another word, he grips the covering and drags it off the display.

Stern’s breath leaves him like he was punched in the gut.

Inside the case, is a Bigfoot costume. But it’s not . . . It’s not some cheap thing from Amazon. 

It looks real.

It looks authentic.

It looks like the Bigfoot in the video.

“This is the costume,” Ned explains, but his voice sounds distant. “Crafted it myself using other Bigfoot sightings as reference.”

As he speaks, Stern slowly reaches out his hand and touches the glass. The fur is the exact same color as in the video, the limbs the same proportions. But now he can see the seams where it’s held together, how the eyes are hollow and beady and lifeless and horrifying. Did it really look like this in the video? Did Stern just see it as looking like another sylph because he wanted it to? Needed it to?

“But . . .” Stern manages to get out that simple word as his throat feels like it’s scabbing over. “But in the full video, I- I saw you. In that Chewbaca costume. How . . . How did you . . .”

“Well while I was in the chewbacca costume- we thought it would add a layer of credibility to the whole thing if it appeared that I was faking my own Bigfoot video when the real sasquatch appeared, give a reason that I would be filming and all that- but anyways, it was Barclay in this suit.”

Stern draws his hand away from the glass like it burned him. “Barclay? No . . . No, he wouldn’t . . .”

So Barclay knew the whole time the video was fake . . . God, it makes so much sense, Barclay wanted him to stop looking for Bigfoot in Kepler because he  _ knew _ it wasn’t real. He always knew.

“And the- The bobcat?”

“Honestly, we didn’t plan that. It just attacked poor Barclay while in the suit and he had to fend it off.

“And the other . . . The other sightings in Kepler? The bigfoot sightings over the years? Were they all you?”

Ned nods and Stern tries not to crumble.

“So there was never a Bigfoot in Kepler.”

“No.” And then Ned starts saying something, an apology maybe, but Stern doesn’t hear it. 

All this time, all the months he spent here, and there was never any chance that he would actually find the other sylph because there was no other sylph to find. It was all just a sham. He was never going to find another crystal to use. And he never will. 

He’s won’t make it back to the Lodge tonight.

He won’t get to kiss the crumbs off Barclay’s lips.

He won’t get to see the Lodge again.

He’s going to lose his humanity.

He’s going to turn into a monster.

He’s going to die. 

“Can I borrow your phone?” Stern asks, interrupting whatever it was Ned was saying. “Please. I want to . . . I need to call Barclay.”

Ned eyes him up for a moment before nodding. “Of course.”

He takes him back out, Stern’s steps becoming heavier and heavier as he walks. When he does make it to the phone, he struggles to remember the Lodge’s number and just barely manages to dial it in as his finger shake.

The phone only rings out once.

“Amnesty Lodge, this is Barclay. How can I help you?”

“Barclay . . . Hi.”

“Joseph? Is something wrong?”

“Uh . . . No? Yes? It- It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing you can . . . Nothing you can do. I just, I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? Joseph what are you talking about?”

“I have to leave. And I know how much you hate people leaving without . . . Without telling you.”

“Wait, is this about the video? Did Ned- Joseph, I’m so sorry, I wanted to tell you. But please, you don’t have to leave just yet. Come back to the Lodge. You don’t even have your suitcase.”

Stern slumps against the wall. “No. No I can’t. I have to- to go. Say goodbye to the others. For me. Please. You all mean so much to me. And I’ve . . . I’m so glad I got to meet you Barclay. . .”

“Joseph, hold on a second!”

“I’m sorry.”

And as Stern goes to hang the phone back up on the receiver, the tremor in his hands causes him to overshoot and he just clumsily drops it. The sound of it swinging against the wall mixed in with Barclay’s static filled voice barely audible through the phone being the only thing that can be heard in the room. Taking stumbling steps towards the door, Stern catches sight of Ned rushing to the phone.

“Barclay, you need to get down to the Cryptonomica right now. There’s something wrong with Agent Stern.”

“No!” Stern growls out, not being able to stop himself. Barclay can’t be here. What if Stern hurts him? No. He has to get away. Far away from Kepler where he can’t hurt anybody. So as Ned is still distracted on the phone, Stern slips out the front door, stepping right on his forgotten FBI badge as he does, and barely makes it to his car. He peels out of the parking lot and speeds down the road towards the bridge that crosses the river, ignoring the sight of Ned running out of the Cryptonomica and trying to wave him back in his rearview mirror. 

Stern can’t go back now. 

His time is almost out.

He makes it over the bridge and drives for a minute before finding a place on the side of the road to pull off. When he steps out of his car, the slush of snow soaks into his shoes but he can’t make himself care. He doesn’t even bother taking his keys out of the car. Instead, Stern starts off straight into the woods. How far can he make it before it's too late? The farther he gets from town, the less of a chance he’ll hurt someone. How much control will he even have in that state? How long will he even be some feral animal before being cut off from the crystals energy finally kills him?

Stern’s breaths come out in jagged gasps as he goes deeper and deeper into the trees. He doesn’t know how much time has passed. Thirty minutes maybe? Could be two hours? He lets out a mirthless laugh. If only his watch worked . . . Speaking of, wearing his watch is leeching up some of his energy, should he take it off? Or should he keep it on? Make the process go quicker?

Yes. He’ll keep the watch on.

Finally though, Stern feels like he can go no further and gracelessly slumps against the trunk of a tree, sliding to the ground amongst the snow. His eyelids droop and his body sways. He’s starving, but it's not just his stomach. The feeling is all over his body, gnawing at his bones and twisting his veins. 

All there is to do now is wait.

Or, that would be the case if not for a sudden sound breaking through the forest.

“Joseph! Joseph, where are you?!”

His eyes snap open at the sound of Barclay’s voice echoing through the trees. No no no no no, he can’t be here. He’s going to get hurt. Stern tries to halt even his breathing as he hears Barclay’s footsteps draw closer. Maybe he won’t find him? Maybe he’ll leave.

“Joseph!”

And then Stern turns and sees Barclay thirty feet away but fast approaching as he sprints over to him. Stern tries scrambling backwards, but his back collides with the tree trunk.

“Joseph, what are you doing?” Barclay calls as he rushes over. “Ned said you sped off and then I saw your car- Why are you out here, it’s freezing!”

“Barclay, please, you have to- You have to leave. You have to get out of here.”

Taking a few steps forward, Barclay’s face twists in confusion as Stern puts his hands out to try to keep him back. “What are you talking about? I’m not leaving you out here!”

Stern sighs, but it comes out more as a wheeze. “You can’t . . . I’m sorry, there’s nothing you can do. You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand!” Barclay pleads. “I can’t help you if I don’t understand what’s happening.”

And Stern realises with a sense of dawning horror that Barclay isn’t going to leave. It’s just like him to want to help everybody, even if it harms himself in the end. And Stern has to get him to leave. He has to. If he could just do something, anything, to scare Barclay away and ensure he never returns. 

His watch grows cold on his wrist.

Stern sighs.

What other choice does he have?

And then, without a word, Stern reaches over to his wrist . . .

Runs his fingers across forever frozen face of his watch . . .

Unclaps it . . .

And then sees it fall to the forest floor.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment as his body shifts into his natural form, meaning he only hears and does not see Barclay gasp.

When he does open his eyes, he sees Barclay standing frozen with his hands clasped over his mouth, his eyes trying to take in the sight of Bigfoot leaned up against a tree in the forest. But he doesn’t run. He just stands there.

“But you . . .” Barclay’s voice is barely even a whisper. “You can’t be . . . This isn’t . . . So the FBI . . . You’re not . . .”

Why isn’t he running?

He should be running.

That’s what's supposed to happen when humans find out the truth.

That’s what he was always told.

But Barclay’s not running.

Instead he’s just standing there . . .

Reaching for his bracelet . . .

Tugging on the cord until . . .

. . . Until it comes off and rests in one large furry hand, and standing in front of him is another Bigfoot. His fur is a bit lighter than his hair and now that he can see it properly and not blurry and shaken like it is in the video, Stern can see how his eyes are still the same as in his human form, still that same beautiful deep brown as he stares at him.

And Stern? Stern just sits there, staring up at Barclay, until he’s not just sitting there he’s laughing. Laughing and laughing and laughing and sobbing and sobbing and sobbing, no line delineating the two.

“It was you,” he manages to get out. “It was always you. After all these years, I finally found you. I’m such an idiot. How did I never see that it was you.”

And then Barclay is beside him without Stern even realising it, his hand cupping Stern’s cheek which he gladly leans into. “But how . . . When did you come through the gate?”

Stern tries to keep his eyes focused on Barclay’s sweet, handsome face. “Gate? What are you . . .”

“The gate! The gate you came through when you were banished.”

“Oh no, I wasn’t- I wasn’t banished. I was born here. On Earth. My parents . . . They were banished. I know nothing of Sylvain. I’ve been-” He sucks in a breath between his teeth. “I’ve been trying to find another sylph. For years. And Dale, he figured out I wasn’t an FBI agent. Been blackmailing me. “He feels himself slipping and tries to right himself, only for Barclay to come and quickly cradle his neck and rest another hand under his back to help him up. “But that- I don’t- Your crystal, I need it. I don’t have much time left. Otherwise, I’m . . . I’m gone.”

Barclay’s hands tense.

“You have one, don’t you?”

His eyes are wide.

“Please . . . Please tell me you have one.”

His breath catches.

“Joseph . . . I’m so sorry. I- It’s back at the Lodge. And I . . . I took yours.”

He tries to make sense of the words, fit them into a shape that he understands, but it doesn’t work.

“You what?”

“I took your shard of Sylvain, that night in the woods. I’m so sorry, you said you needed it for your job and I thought the FBI knew about Sylvain and sylphs and I was so scared of what might happen and so I took it and then we made a disguise charm to look like a Bigfoot costume so the FBI wouldn’t think there were any sylphs here, and . . . Fuck, I’m so sorry.” His words come out faster and faster and Stern tries desperately to cling to them as they fly by. And in the end, there is one tiny word that he manages to grasp.

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

Barclay’s gaze softens. “Joseph, everyone at the Lodge but Mama and Aubrey, they’re all sylphs. But they know about us all. Same as Duck and Ned.”

This whole time . . . Right under his nose . . . And he never even noticed . . .

“But . . .” Stern swallows and his throat is still dry. “How do you all . . . Does everyone have crystals?”

“What? Oh, no. The hot springs, you can use it in place of the crystal. You never . . . Okay, don’t . . . Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix this. We’re gonna get you back to the Lodge. Get you in the hot springs. It’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. You’re gonna be fine.” 

And as Barclay tries to bring him to his feet, Stern shakes his head. “Barclay . . . Barclay, wait . . . I can’t . . . I won’t even make it halfway back to town, let alone-” He groans. “Let alone the Lodge. And if I put my watch- If I put it back on, I’ll only turn faster. I’ll hurt people. I’ll hurt you. I can’t . . . I won’t . . .”

Barclay glances desperately between him and the path back to the road. “If we hurry . . . Or if I- Maybe I could . . . Shit, shit, shit . . .”

“You know I’m right.”

And Barclay does, Stern can see it on his face. “Okay, okay, how about- What if I go back to the Lodge? Get both the crystals? Then I’ll come back here and I’ll find you. How about that? That’ll work. That has to work.”

No. It won’t work. 

“Yeah, that’ll work.” 

But it will get Barclay far enough away that Stern won’t be able to hurt him. 

“Alright, so you just stay here, okay?” Barclay says, his words blurring together. “And I’ll be right back for you. And tonight, I’ll tell you everything you want to know about Sylvain. Everything. And the others, they’ll be so happy to see you. And those blueberry pancakes? We’ll have some tonight, alright? I promise. Everything will be alright.”

Stern smiles weakly.

“Barclay?”

“I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

Barclay shakes his head, hands still never leaving Stern. “No, no, no, don’t thank me. I’m the one who got you into this mess.”

It’s Stern’s turn to shake his head. “That’s not . . . I’ve been alone for so long . . . I’d forgotten- Forgotten what it was like to be a part of something . . . So thank you, for reminding me what it’s like to not be alone.” Stern’s breath catches in his throat. “I love you.”

And without hesitation, Barclay wraps his arms around him and pulls him tight to his chest. “I love you too.” Then, all too soon, Barclay lets go and eases Stern down against the tree again. “Just, stay right there,” he says as he begins to back away. “I promise, I’ll find you. I’ll bring you back.”

Stern just nods. There are no words left in him.

And then Barclay clasps his bracelet back on and goes sprinting through the trees, leaving Stern to stare up at the snow drifting down.

He tries to hold onto the memories, clings to them desperately like a lifeline. He remembers the cake his parents made on his birthday, how they would sing him to sleep at night. He tries to recall every detail of the first time he met Barclay, his little smile of his and scrapes and scars on his hands from cooking. His fingers twitch as he thinks of holding Barclay’s hand as they skated across the ice and a smile barely brushes his lips as the memory of kissing him at the carnival as the lights twinkled around them.

And just as quickly as he remembers . . .

Stern forgets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in my outline this chapter was simply titled "Oh god oh no oh god oh no oh god" because I felt that really got the point across


	16. I Hear The River Say Your Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barclay can fix this. 
> 
> He can fix this.
> 
> He has to fix this.

What has he done?

Sitting on the couches in the lobby, Aubrey and Dani jump as Barclay slams the door open and barrels past them.

This can’t be happening.

This can’t be happening.

This can’t be happening.

Barclay nearly smashes into a wall as he tries to turn a corner to get to his room. Behind him, he can hear Aubrey and Dani running after him, but he doesn’t have time to stop. He has to get the necklaces. He has to get back to Stern. If he can just move fast enough, he can fix this. He has to fix this. He has to.

Getting to his room, Barclay lets out a sharp “dammit!” as he realises he doesn’t have his room key. There’s no time to go and get it. No time at all. So not even pausing for a breath, Barclay slams his shoulder against the door and it immediately splinters and breaks open under his weight. 

The crystals. Where did he put the crystals. If the panic could leave his brain for just a second, he could remember. Just for a second. All he needs is a second.

“Barclay!” Dani shouts as she comes careening down the hall after him. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

Everything.

Everything is wrong.

But Barclay doesn’t say that. Doesn’t say anything as he starts pulling out his drawers, desperately digging through them for the crystals. He knows he put them in here. But which drawer? Which drawer was it? It’s around here somewhere. Why does he have so many fucking drawers?

And then a sudden hand on his shoulder shocks him and he turns around with a start to see Dani staring down at him, breath heavy and eyes wide. “We can’t help if we don’t know what's wrong.” Behind her, Aubrey stands still along with the other sylphs gathered in the doorway petrified. He can just hear the steady thud of Mama’s cane as she comes down the hall to join them too. “Please, tell us what’s happening.”

Barclay doesn’t so much breathe as choke. “Joseph- It’s Joseph-”

“Oh shit, did he figure out you’re Bigfoot?” Aubrey asks, voice dropping down into a seriousness that sounds so foreign for her. “Are you packing up to leave? Please don’t. We can figure something out. We can get you a new disguise or-”

Shaking his head, Barcaly starts rooting around in the drawers again. “No! Or, yes but- Doesn’t matter. Joseph he’s- He’s a-” He swallows around the word, like his brain and body still cannot accept the reality of what Joseph is. 

“He’s also a sylph.”

The room takes on a cannibalistic quiet, the pure lack of sound, the absence of breath or shoes scuffing or wood creaking, it consumes any and all other noise until Barclay feels like he could scream and it would immediately be swallowed whole.

“What?”

He doesn’t know who said that, can’t force himself to match a voice to the person as he scrambles through the drawers. “Joseph- He’s not an FBI agent. Just pretending the whole time. He’s a sylph. Like me. He- He just wanted- Needed to find another sylph. For another crystal. And I took it. I took it and now he’s in the woods and if I don’t- I just need to get it to him. I have to. I just have to. I have to make this right.”

And as he speaks, his fingers brush against the cool, smooth surface of the crystals hidden at the back of his drawer and Barclay could nearly cry. With them in hand, he whirls back around to see that now, Mama is standing with Dani and Aubrey, the rest of the sylphs watching from the door. He gives them a quick nod and an even quicker, “I’ll be back.” before he rushes past the still and shocked figures, and out the front door. 

Speeding down the road, it feels like his wheels are seconds away from flying off but Barclay doesn’t care. And if Sheriff Owens or Deputy Dewey or anyone tries to pull them over, Barclay won’t care about that either. He just has to get to Stern.

How did he not see it before? All the clues that Stern isn’t human were right in front of him. There was his watch he never took off, how he could run a touch too fast for a human, seemed far stronger than he should be . . . What if Barclay had figured it out earlier? They could have avoided all this. And instead of barrelling down the roads of Kepler, he could have Stern in his arms, any fears of his identity being discovered already shed.

But instead, here he is, skidding across the snow as he screeches to a halt right next to Stern’s own abandoned car and nearly tumbling to the ground as he scrambles out of the door and into the forest.

The snow is coming down even thicker now, heavy sheets of white that consume the forest floor. His foot prints from earlier are already gone. 

Shit.

Moving faster, Barclay ducks and dodges between the trees back to where he left Stern, the twin crystals clutched tightly in his hand. It’s fine. It’s fine. There’s still time. There has to be. This isn’t how their story would end, would it? Stern just having found him, just to immediately lose him? No. Barclay won’t let that happen. 

Just one last hill to crest and then he’ll be back with Stern. And it will all be alright. Barclay promised he’d find him, to bring him back. He won’t break that promise.

And then Barclay crests the hill and . . .

. . . And Stern is gone.

No. No no no. He must be at the wrong tree. Maybe he took a wrong turn. Got turned around as he ran. 

And as Barclay’s eyes flit from tree to tree to find Stern, a flash of silver catches his eye and he freezes. There, almost entirely buried in the snow except for a tiny portion of the clasp, is Stern’s watch laying on the root of a tree.

So he is at the right place.

Stern is just . . .

Gone.

Gingerly, Barclay goes over and lifts the watch from the snow and places it deep within his pocket. Stern will want this when he finds him. And he’s going to find him. He has to find him. His eyes lift from the roots of the tree to something he hadn’t noticed before, Curving around the trunk, starting where he crouches and arching around the side, is a deep, fresh scratch clawed into the wood. He peeks around the other side and stifles a gasp as he sees near identical claw marks on the rows of trees going deeper and deeper into the woods. And with the trail comes a set of huge footprints already nearly covered up in the snow.

_ Fuck. _

“Joseph!” Barclay yells, knowing full well it won’t help. That it won’t bring him back. Still, Barclay surges forward and follows the tracks as he ventures deeper and deeper into the woods. He won’t be too far gone yet. Barclay can still save him with the crystals. 

He just has to find him.

The trees seem to creep closer and closer together as the footsteps get farther and farther apart, like he went from stumbling through the forest to charging through it. Still, Barclay follows after him and tries to ignore the snow clinging to his clothes and the sweat falling into his eyes and the overwhelming sense that he is running up a hill with no end. As he sprints through the forest, Barclay abruptly screeches to a halt as he comes to a small stream. It’s no more than ten feet across and can’t be any more than a foot deep. He could cross it easily.

That’s not the problem though.

The problem is that Stern’s footsteps don’t resume on the other side.

It feels like his neck nearly cracks as he whips his head around, trying to find where the trail resumes. There has to be something. A snapped branch. Claw marks on the trees. Anything to hint at which way Stern went. Left or right. It could be either. 

“Joseph!” Barclay yells again, hoping the tiniest of sounds might give Stern away. But in response, the birds all just take flight into the approaching eve, leaving Barclay stuck on the ground with no idea of which way to go.

Left.

He’ll go left.

And so Barclay trudges through the ever-piling snow as he follows the stream to the left. His eyes never stop scanning the ground for a sign of Stern, hand still clutching the crystals. Any second now he’ll find him. Any second now he’ll come across him. 

Just another second.

Or another minute.

Maybe a few more after that.

Fuck the wind really bites at his skin.

How long has he been walking?

When did the snow get this heavy?

And finally, when his feet don’t even feel like his anymore, Barclay stops and shivers. If Stern even went this way, his tracks are long gone by now. And if he went the other way, then still, there might be no trace of him. 

Stern is just . . .  _ gone _ .

When Barclay drags himself back through the forest, he does so in silence, the tears already frozen on his cheeks. The car ride is also a silent endeavor and as he walks into the Lodge, the others give him the courtesy of joining in his quiet before he speaks, voice raw.

“I need help. Please.”

And around the room, the others nod and offer him as reassuring smiles as they can. 

“Course we’ll help,” Mama says before she starts making her way to her office. “Now how ‘bout you get us caught up to speed, and then we can figure out what to do, huh?"

Before Barclay can say a word, Dani, Aubrey, Jake, and Moira are all following Mama to the office. When Barclay steps inside, there’s already a seat open for him and it’s only when he sinks down into the chair does he realise how much his feet ache.

“So, Joseph’s also a sylph,” Barclay simply states, letting the words hang in the air for a moment.

Dani purses his lips and squints. “See, that’s what I thought you said earlier, but- How? When did he even come through the gate?”

“Never. Said he was born on Earth. That his parents were the ones who were banished. Not him.” 

“So they must have come out of the New York gate, right?” Aubrey asks. “Duck said that’s where it was before.”

“Guess so, they must not have stayed there long though.” Barclay uncurls his fingers to reveal the two shards of Sylvain still clutched in his hand. “He seemed to think that the crystals were the only way to get energy here, and I know for a fact that they had something like the hot springs up in New York.”

Mama drums her fingers against the desk. “Well if they managed to get their hands on a piece of Sylvain, no reason to stick ‘round to find another energy source I ‘spose. They could go wherever they wanted and it’s not like Sylvain’s handin’ out guidebooks to bein’ banished before they kick folks out.”

“Growing up, I was always told that if you leave Sylvain . . .” Dani pauses and next to her Aubrey reaches out her hand and gently intertwines it with her own. “That’s it. You might last a few weeks. But most sylphs don’t even know it's possible to survive over here.”

Moira nods. “They certainly don’t want the general public knowing that exile to Earth is not the death sentence they make it appear to be.”

“If three sylphs were surviving off this little thing, it makes sense why it’s almost dead now.” And then Barclay sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “But still, it could have kept him going for longer. If I hadn’t stolen it.”

“Hey now,” Mama says, standing on the tracks of that train of thought. “You didn’t know. We all thought him havin’ that crystal only spelled trouble.”

“But I should have noticed that he was a sylph. If I had . . .”

Twisting in his chair so that his legs are splayed about on the cushion, Jake faces Barclay. “We can’t change the past, dude. But we can totally change the future. Just gotta let us know what we can do to help.”

And even just that in itself brings a tiny bit of lightness to his chest. “Well . . . Joseph he . . . He went feral. Without his crystal and with never using the hot springs . . . It was inevitable. I found him out in the woods and there- There just wasn’t enough time to get him back here or to get back out to him, so when I tried to go find him again, he was just-  _ Gone _ . And I lost his trail so now he’s just out there, somewhere in the woods. Alone.”

Mama makes a little humming noise in the back of her throat before she goes over to a cabinet and pulls out a large rolled up sheet of paper. When she unfurls it, Barclay immediately recognises it as a map of Kepler. “Alright, now where was he when you last saw him?”

“Right over here,” Barclay says as he points to the left most portion of the map. “Crossed over the bridge near the Crytonomica and parked on the side of the road. His car’s still out there.”

Another moment of humming. “Okay, well, I’m bettin’ he’ll probably stay in that area. ‘Cause to the south and east of there is the river and I can’t imagine he’ll be crossin’ that. To the north are some roads and houses, so he’ll probably steer clear of those. And finally way out to the west is a highway. Now, we can’t be certain Stern won’t try to venture into any of those areas for food and water and such, but more than likely he’ll stay in the woods. Still, that’s a hell of a lot of area to cover.”

Stifling a groan, Barclay feels like the map with its vast expanse of green is taunting him. “How are we ever gonna find him? He could be anywhere in that forest, and his instincts are gonna keep him far away from people. And fuck, what if the Bigfoot Brigade finds him first? What are we gonna-”

And then just like that, Barclay is struck with an idea so fast he feels like he might topple out of his chair.

“Holy shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Aubrey asks, already standing up and looking ready to fight or flee or whatevers needed.

“Nothing! I just-” The energy inside him needs an outlet and Barclay stands up and starts pacing the room. “Think about it, why has the Bigfoot Brigade never found me? Or I guess Joseph for that matter?”

“Because they suck?”

“No- I mean, yeah, Aubrey they do suck. But really, it was because they were looking for the wrong type of Bigfoot.”

At her desk, Mama’s eyes go wide with realization.

“They weren’t imagining Bigfoot as an intelligent, humanoid creature. They were imagining a wild animal hiding out in the forest and they tailored all their methods to that idea.”

“And seeing as you were here at the Lodge making pancakes, their methods all failed.” Moira adds on.

“Exactly. And-” Barclay sighs at the next thought. “And as much as I hate to say it, in Joseph’s current state, he’s much more like a wild animal in the woods.”

Jake snaps his fingers, or, at least he tries to. Having flippers most of the time means that snapping never came naturally to him. “So like, their methods might actually work?”

“Yeah, all their cameras and motion sensors and bait and stuff, it has a chance of working.”

Aubrey pauses for a moment, glancing between Barclay and the map. “Are you saying we gotta become the Better Bigfoot Brigade?”

It only takes Barclay a second to think before replying.

“Yeah. Think we gotta become the Better Bigfoot Brigade.”

* * *

The next two weeks are a blur of non-stop planning and preparing with so many moving pieces that Barclay barely has time to focus on one. 

Using Ned’s cameras he used to use for fake cryptid sightings, Duck is able to borrow a harness and rope system from the forestry service to scale the trees and set them up. It won’t be useful for finding out exactly where Stern is as they don’t have a live feed, but it does enable them to narrow down the areas where Stern usually is. They even place blueberries in the camera's line of sight to see if that might help catch a glimpse of Stern.

And every day, Dani and Aubrey go out to the woods to try and track down any footprints or snapped branches or really anything that would indicate Stern had been there. On top of that, sylphs who barely like leaving the Lodge are now venturing into town to eavesdrop in at coffee shops about possible Bigfoot sightings, or bear sightings for the portion of town who would like to keep their image as a respectable tourist destination thank you very much. Jake and Mama also work in tandem to keep the original, worse Bigfoot Brigade away from their meetings and activities. Mama by finding some obscure thing wrong with their rooms that she has to check on or fix, then saying that it’s policy that the guest be present in the room during this check. The amount of times they’ve been pulled away to watch as Mama bangs on the pipes under the sink might even top the amount of times they never left even a single cent for a tip. And Jake? Well Jake finds extremely loud and rambling things to talk about. Gordan and Tammy are surely experts on the best type of snow to snowboard in and how to best stunt off a parking lot curb by now.

Meanwhile, Moira helps Barclay record audio of some of his own Bigfoot calls to play out in the forest. Now will that actually help? They have no idea. Maybe there’s something deeply embedded in Stern’s instincts that will ping when he hears the calls, that he’ll just know that those noises mean there are others like him that he’ll naturally seek out. But at the same time, without his crystal, all of his thoughts might be consumed with the never-ending need to find some source of energy, finding another sylph be damned.

But still, they try. 

And to top it all off- an extremely well made forgery by Ned, which they all just chose not to question, of an official looking request from Agent Stern is delivered to Sheriff Owns, asking that the section of the woods in question be cordoned off due to top secret FBI activity. And Barclay is almost worried about how easily the police department accepts that, but hey, it works in their favor, so he’s not gonna complain.

And as they plan and search, Barclay can’t help but feel a terrible ache in his chest every night as he stands on the veranda and stares out at the forest. Stern is out there right now. Alone and cold and so far from himself that he’s not even him, is he? If Barclay simply stepped out of the Lodge and into the woods, could he find him now? Could this terrible search be over today? Tomorrow? What will his life even look like after all this? Not having to hide every scrap of evidence that he’s Bigfoot from the man he loves?

Imagining Stern back with them is what gets him through the night.

And when all is said and done, all that’s left to do is figure out what the plan is for when they actually find Stern.

“So, we just gonna like, wrangle the necklaces on him?” Duck asks the gathered group. With the amount of people, they’ve had to relocate to the basement as they plan. “Cause uhh, my current status as ‘regular dude with a shitty sword’ ain’t gonna lend itself well to wrestling eight foot tall Bigfoots.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Barclay shrugs. “Yes and no. We’re gonna have to get the necklaces on him, but that’s really only the first step. With how long he’s been out there, and with these just being fragments of Sylvain, it’ll take a while for him to get enough energy to be himself again. Could be hours.”

“And the problem there is,” Dani starts, “that all the while, he’ll be getting stronger and stronger, but he’ll still be- I don’t like using the word ‘feral’ but . . . Yeah, feral.” Walking over to the white board, Dani draws a quick graph with time on the x-axis and strength on the y-axis. A straight line goes up the graph diagonally and near the top, she intersects it with a dotted straight horizontal line. “Alright, so here-” she points to the horizontal line. “-Is the point at which Joseph will have enough energy to be himself again. Until that point, he’s gonna be getting stronger, but he’ll still be feral. Which means he’ll be more and more dangerous by the second. Not that he’s not dangerous now. But, you get it.”

Barclay nods. “So ‘til he reaches that point, he can’t be awake.”

“And how do you propose we keep him under?” Ned asks as he strokes his beard. “Because I can’t imagine giving him some melatonin and nyquil is going to quite get the job done.”

Aubrey raises her hand high into the air. “Oooh! I got something! I’ve been working on this spell that can just make people go to sleep! But uh, I’ll need to prepare stuff for it and like, we won’t be able to move him or anything. Oh and I’ll need to keep concentrating on the spell to keep it working? Which is, mmm, not my strong suit? And uh, it only lasts for an hour with a cool down of another hour so uhhhh . . . Don’t suppose anybody else knows that spell?”

And everyone shakes their head.

Well, everyone but Dani.

“I can actually,” she says with some hesitation. “I mean, I haven’t practiced anything like that in a while, and it’ll be nowhere as powerful as your spell, but I can do it.”

“Well that’s perfect then, you two can switch off. Give ya both time to recoup before goin’ at it again. Cause this will take a hell of a lot of time, y’all.” Mama then turns to Barclay, her look softening. “Can’t say there’s no risk in all this, for us or Joseph, but I think this is our best chance of gettin’ him back.”

And without Mama even having to say it, Barclay knew that all of this is risky. Once they get him under, Stern will just be out there, exposed in his sylph form. They can’t even put his watch on. It’ll take too much energy from him. Might even kill him.

Barclay shudders.

But he also knows that Mama is right.

This is their best hope.

Maybe their only hope.

And Barclay will be damned if he lets this chance to get Stern back slip him by.

So down in this cold cellar made warm only by the people gathered around, the Better Bigfoot Brigade plans. And they wait. And they watch. And then eventually, they’re ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the song, The Plan from the Amnesty album because that provided the perfect soundtrack for writing the second half of the fic. Also the chapter title comes from the Lord Huron song "When The Night Is Over" which I highly recomend. It's a great song and I realised it fits this fic perfectly while writing this


	17. What He Can’t Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stern is not Stern.

Stern is not Stern.

Doesn’t remember what it’s like to be Stern.

He remembers hunger.

He cannot forget hunger.

He is not allowed to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated for so long to put this in or not but I decided that I really liked keeping up the pov switch even during this part and so I kept it in


	18. When Will I Hold You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan is in place, everyone's ready to go, and now all they can do is wait.

The forest is not quiet.

A fast running stream gurgles and sputters along the rocks and banks, emboldened by the recent snowfall. The wind howls, loud and long and cold as the first rays of dawn are just arriving. Birds call back and forth to each other, oblivious to the people gathered in the bushes below their branches. And finally, Barclay’s heart pounds away in his chest so loud that he’s sure the others can hear it too. 

After two weeks of searching and planning and preparing, they’re finally ready to get Stern back. 

With the cameras and tracks they had found, the Better Bigfoot Brigade had come to the conclusion that Stern usually came by his stream to drink, at around this spot. He’s becoming predictable, falling into patterns, and that is both good for them and also extremely bad. If he had more energy, even in this state, Stern would be so much harder to find. The fact that he’s not expending the energy to vary where he goes means he’s getting weaker and weaker. He might only have a day or two until . . . 

Until he’s gone.

Barclay wants to shift, to pull his coat tighter around himself, to run his fingers over his hempen bracelet or just feel the cool faces of the crystals in his pocket. But he doesn’t. He can’t. They need to be as quiet as possible and the river and the wind and the birds can only do so much to mask their noise. Stern’s hearing is impeccable and if they’re not careful, he  _ will _ hear them and Sylvain help them if that happens.

Pink light that is far too soft for the occasion blankets the snow as Dani turns to him and grimaces, her facing saying it all. They’ve been out here for three hours now and nothing. No sign of Stern. And with the sun heralds the possibility that they may have to give up and try again tomorrow.

But Stern might not have til tomorrow.

Trying to keep his breathing steady, Barclay watches as Aubrey gently taps her own ear and raises her eyebrows at him. In response, he just shakes his head. If Stern is even in this part of the forest now, he’s far enough away that Barclay can’t hear him. 

And so they continue to wait. 

And wait.

And wait.

With his muscles tight with anxiety, his jaw sore from how tight he’s clenching it, relentless thoughts flooding his head, Barclay desperately tries to calm himself. Just imagine having Stern back. Think of his sweet smile and his infectious laugh. He’ll be fine. Of course he’ll be fine. They just have to get him back. They just have to-

Far off in the forest, an oh so quiet  _ thump _ , barely audible, meets Barclay’s ears and he immediately perks up. Now, maybe it's some wild animals, a deer knocking its antlers against bark. But maybe, just maybe, it’s Stern.

Seeing Barclay’s sudden alertness, the others startle into position. Aubrey gives a small hand signal over to Mama who then passes it onto the others lying in wait. And hopefully, they won’t need the others. They’re here more for if something goes wrong and by Sylvain Barclay hopes nothing goes wrong. 

The thumping does not return but other sounds do. Leaves crackling under the snow, branches snapping, and eventually, the heavy slow breath of something large lumbering through the forest.

This is it.

The anticipation and dread form in equal measures in the pit of Barclay’s gut as the sounds get louder and louder. Occasionally, he glances over to Aubrey and Dani to ensure they’re still in position. They always are but that thought never crosses his mind when he checks once again. 

_ This is it. _

Sure there will be much more waiting to do once they get Stern under, but at least Barclay will have him in his sight. At least Barclay will be able to protect him then. 

And then, without warning or fanfare, Stern appears and Barclay has to cover his mouth as he gazes out from the bushes at him to keep himself from gasping. He can’t see all of Stern from this vantage point but the bits and pieces he can see . . .

Twigs and dirt tangle in his fur as Stern staggers through the underbrush. The way he moves, hunched over, head cocked to the side as he listens out for anything else in the forest, his gait heavy and uneven, it makes Barclay’s blood curdle and his fingernails dig into his skin as he clutches at his mouth.

It’s Stern, the eyes are the same, fur the same deep black as his human form, but at the same time, it’s not him. 

Not really. 

Slowly, Stern shambles down to the creek, coming closer and closer to where they’re hiding. Composing himself, Barclay delicately takes his hand off his mouth and looks over to Dani and Aubrey who are both staring wide eyed at Stern. ‘Do it now’ he mouths to them. Aubrey gives a quick, short nod before she squares her shoulders and looks back to Stern, a determined fire in her eyes.

Raising her hand, fingers outstretched, Aubrey readies the spell. Barclay waits with bated breath. For just a moment, the wind dies down and stops roaring against Barclay’s face, before suddenly shifting so it bites at his neck.

And that’s all it takes for Stern to smell them.

His head snaps up. Water falling from his hands. His lip curls. A growl growing in the back of his throat as he stares them down through the bushes.

_ Oh fuck. _

Stern is running before Barclay can even blink. But not at them. No. Instead, Stern starts to flee back into the depths of the forest. Barclay swears he tastes blood in his mouth from how high his heart has leapt in his throat.

“Aubrey now!”

Bolting upright, Aubrey tries to steady her hand for the shot.

“I’m trying!”

Stern darts through the trees.

“Shit!”

The others pop up in the bushes around them.

“Someone do something!”

Stern’s form gets smaller and smaller.

“Fuck!”

He’ll be gone soon.

“How’d he see us?”

He’s barely a blur.

“Just-”

They won’t be able to find him again.

“One-”

Stern will be dead by morning.

“Second!”

And then through the trees, Barclay watches as Stern’s form crumples to the ground.

He whirls around to Aubrey, her hand still outstretched, panting through a growing smile on her face. “Hell yeah,” she breathes out.

“Aubrey, you . . . You did it!” Barclay nearly surges for a hug but remembers at the last moment that she has to keep concentrating on the spell to make it last. “Thank you so much. When this is all over, you’re getting the biggest hug and a cake and-”

She smiles at him. “How about you go put those necklaces on your boyfriend there and then we can talk about how amazing I am.”

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll just-” But Barclay is already hopping across the stream at his first word and over to Stern, the others following close behind. He’s a fair ways away from where they set up and Barclay breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that Stern didn’t hit his head as he fell asleep. He’s curled up on his side, breathing deep and heavy, eyes shut tight. Ever so gently, Barclay slips his necklace, now with both the crystals attached, over Stern’s head. Then, from his pocket he pulls a small handkerchief and gently brushes the dirt and grime from Stern’s face. It’s the least he can do to make things not so terrible for when he wakes up. 

“I’ll let Duck and Ned know that we got Joe,” Mama calls as she walks over, pulling her walkie-talkie out from her belt. “Think Ned was gunnin’ for some chase through the woods on that snowmobile of his to tell the truth.”

Barclay finishes wiping the dirt from Stern’s face and stands. “Let them know to still keep a perimeter. Don’t want some random hikers stumbling over here.” With a quick thumbs up, Mama radios over to Duck while Barclay glances over to where Aubrey is sat on a log, concentrating on Stern intensely. “She need anything?” He whispers to Dani.

“Nah, we just need to keep quiet. It’s gonna take a lot to keep him under. I’ll switch with her in an hour. For now, all we can do is wait.”

And wait they do.

They keep their conversations to a hushed whisper as Aubrey works to keep Stern asleep. However, Barclay’s eyes never leave Stern. He should’ve brought him a pillow. Maybe a blanket too. It feels cruel to just leave him lying on the forest floor. However, he doesn’t have time to think about laying his jacket on top of Stern as Dani stands up and walks to Aubrey, ready to switch over.

“Ready?” She says, hand already outstretched towards Stern. “Three . . . Two . . . One . . . Now!” And in an instant, Aubrey’s hand falls down to her side just as Dani’s eyes begin to glow a faint yellow. Stern only stirs briefly before settling down once again. 

“Thanks magic,” Aubrey says weakly. “But oh boy, I think I’m all tapped out for a bit. No spells for me. Hooo, that was . . . Does anyone have like, a granola bar?” Aubrey asks, slightly wobbly on her feet. “I’d even take some of those weird crackers? You know with the cheese? But like that weird neon cheese? Kinda rubbery? Real bad but I  _ will  _ eat it.”

“I’ve got some bugles!” Jake passes over the bag with his free hand, his other hand busy having bugle claws. “Man, I can’t wait ‘til we tell Joseph all about Sylvain! How much do you think he knows?”

“Not a lot, I think.” Barclay says with a shrug. “Also, let’s wait a bit before bombarding him. Gonna be really disorientating waking up after all this. Better give him some time to come to terms with some things.”

Jake nods. “Yeah you’re right dude. Hey, do you think that since he straight up wasn’t banished, could he-”

And before Jake can get out the next word, Mama’s walkie-talkie crackles to life, the words, “Hey, uh, y’all copy?” barely audible through the static.

“Yeah Duck, we copy? Somethin’ wrong?”

“Uhh, depends? Any of y’all pop into town and come back? Maybe made a hot chocolate run?”

Glancing around, Mama quickly counts up everyone there. “Nah, everyone present and accounted for. Why?”

And although Duck answers, saying something about finding footprints in the snow, he doesn’t have to. Because it’s at that exact moment that Barclay just barely hears the fast approaching footsteps of a group of people headed straight for them. 

“Oh  _ shit!”  _ Barclay jumps to his feet, his mind swirling. “There’s not much time! We gotta . . . Hide Stern?”

“How? He’s like eight feet tall and half a ton! Where would we hide him?”

“I don’t know! You have a spell or something to make him invisible?”

“I’m not Harry Potter!” Aubrey says back, which Barclay almost wants to call BS on because she did just use a sleeping spell, but he doesn’t have time. “Anybody got like, a big blanket or something?”

Before Barclay can respond, Dani makes a low groaning noise in the back of her throat, her hand still outstretched towards Stern and eyes glowing and immediately they all quiet.

“Everyone hush,” Mama quietly calls to all of them. “Okay, y’all make sure nothin’ interrupts Dani’s concentration, I’ll try to go head them off. Probably just a bunch of tourists who got turned around.”

And then Barclay realises two things at once. 

One: Mama won’t make it in time. The interlopers are already too close. Already moving too fast. Practically sprinting through the woods if the sound of their footsteps practically already upon them.

And two: They’re not tourists.

“If y’all think I’m gonna let you find Bigfoot ‘fore me, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Intrepid listeners, we’re currently following the fresh trail of a sasquatch!”

“You all are going to scare it off!”

“You think they’ll make a movie of this?”

_ It’s the Bigfoot Brigade. _

And they’re hot on the trail that Stern had left.

Or they were.

But as Barclay spots them through the trees, they spot him too.

No.

They don’t spot him.

They’ve never given a damn about the cook serving their food and bringing them towels and cleaning their messes and they certainly don’t give a damn about him now.

They spot Stern.

And Barclay doesn’t even have to make them stop as they all come to a screeching halt about twenty feet from where Stern lies

“That’s . . .” Gordan starts, camera shaking in his hands as he tries to record all this. “That’s actually . . .”

He scrambles for something to say, how they’re shooting a movie or how that’s just a bear or something. But he knows from the look in their eyes that they won’t believe it. 

“By good God in Heaven, that’s a squatch.” Buck turns to Barclay, eyes wide. “I’m seein’ a squatch with my own two eyes. I can’t believe it. Y’all actually caught yourself a squatch.”

Behind Barclay, Aubrey goes to stand next to Dani while Mama quietly tries to creep over to where she set her gun. “You all need to leave,” Barclay says through gritted teeth, quiet and forceful. “Now.”

“What? And let you get the credit for finding Bigfoot?” Dale steps forward, coming face to face with Barclay, head held high and shoulders back. “Not a chance. I didn’t spend all the time and money I did finding Bigfoot just for a bunch of backwater bumpkins to stumble upon the discovery of a lifetime. You’re not writing me out of this. No way.”

Barclay holds back a growl growing in his throat. “You think I care about credit? This isn’t about that!”

“Then you should have no problem letting me take it for myself.”

“Hey, what about us?” Tammy calls, her microphone forgotten at her side. “Why should you get the credit and not us? We’re the ones who heard about all the Bigfoot sightings out here! You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for us, Dale!”

Before Dale can answer, Buck steps forward. “Now hold on just a sec. It was ol’ Buck here that got the video of the ‘squatch! Wouldn’t y’all have packed up and left town if not for that? Course ya would have! So really, I should get the credit, right? Yeah!”

“Oh, fuck right off,” Dale bites back, not even turning around to look at the others as he sidesteps Barclay and heads straight for Stern. 

However, Barclay is quick to step right back in front of him. “ _ Listen to me _ . You- All of you- Are in danger.” Barclay opens his mouth to say more, but behind him, he can hear Dani groan. When he glances back, he can just barely see how her arm is shaking.  _ Shit _ . “Everyone just- Just be quiet.” He whispers harshly. He doesn’t want to fight the Bigfoot Brigade, but he’ll do it. He’ll drag them out of here if that’s what it takes. “You all have to leave. If he wakes up, people are gonna get hurt.”

Dale’s eyes widen beneath the brim of his har “It’s . . . You haven’t killed it yet?”

“No! And if we can just keep him asleep for a while longer, everything will be fine. If not . . . Look, there’s a lot you don’t understand, so please, I’m begging you, leave.”

Putting his hands on his hips, fingers toying with the edge of his jacket, Dale once again glances at Stern. “So let me get this straight, that thing wakes up, we’re all fucked?”

“Yes, so please. Please be quiet and please leave. We’ve got this handled.”

“Better make sure it doesn’t wake up then, huh?”

“Exactly.”

Dale nods and mercifully, takes about ten steps back. “You know, I always thought I’d be the one to finally find Bigfoot . . . Dreamed about it my whole life . . . But you know what?”

“What?”

“I’ll settle for the next best thing.”

And in one smooth motion, from where his hand rests on his hip, Dale drags a gun from its holster and takes aim at Stern.

_ “No!” _

Barclay tries to reach him.

Tries to get to him in time. 

To tear the gun from his hand. 

Or to tear his arm from his shoulder. 

But he’s too far. 

And Barclay’s too slow.

Dale pulls the trigger.

_ “Stop!” _

A single gunshot rips through the forest.

And then they’re just standing there amongst the trees, Tammy, Gordan and Buck staring on in horror, Barclay jolting to a stop like he’s been electrocuted, and Dale . . . With his gun pointed high into the sky, smoke still curling off the barrell. Both Barclay and Dale stare at his raised arm in utter confusion. 

But . . .

What?

Dale’s muscles jerk like he’s going to move his arm, but nothing happens. He groans and curses as he struggles to pull his arm out from some invisible force keeping it held high like . . .

Like magic.

Spinning around to the others, the first thing Barclay takes notice of is Dani’s finger’s splayed, arm outstretched. But not towards Stern. Not anymore. But towards Dale, her frame shaking as she forces his hand high into the sky.

The second thing Barclay takes notice of is Stern’s open eye staring straight at him. 

**_Fuck._ **

“Put him back under put him back under  _ put him back under!” _ Barclay yells with increasing speed and volume as Stern’s claws rake through the snow and dirt when he goes to push himself off the ground.

He barely catches a glance of both Aubrey and Dani reaching out towards Stern, and although he nearly falls back to the ground for a second, eyes drooping, he quickly shakes it off.

“We can’t!” Aubrey shouts back.

No no no no no, this can’t- They didn’t plan- 

Why? Just why?

Then, as Stern rises, he throws his head back and lets out a roar that parts the blood in Barclay’s veins. When he does, Barclay watches as the necklace placed around his neck goes flying off deep into the forest. And whereas before, Stern was weak and afraid, now when he raises up to his full height, he is strong.

And he is angry. 

“Run!” Barclay yells back at the Bigfoot Brigade. But they don’t. Instead they all stand their frozen and staring at Stern. “What are you- Run! I said run!”

In response, Buck whips out his own gun because of course he fucking does. But Stern just snarls, heaves a huge rock from the ground and then hurls it at them like it’s a baseball. 

“Oh, Jesus!” Buck screams as he barely dodges out of having his tombstone read ‘stoned to death by Sasquatch’ and apparently, this is enough to make him, Tammy and Gordan go running in the complete opposite direction.

But not Dale.

No, that bastard plants his feet firmly on the ground as he yells “Cowards!” behind him, gun still clutched in hand. Which is, funnily enough, not the worst thing he could do in that moment. No, the worst thing he could do is raise his gun up once more right and aim it right between Stern’s eyes, and Barclay can’t say how lucid Stern is, but something deep inside him knows that Dale is a threat.

A threat that must be taken out.

Lurching forward, Stern is upon Dale before he can blink. His hand clutches his throat as he heaves him into the air, nostrils flaring and lip curling as Dale scrambles and screams. His hat drifts down to the forest floor. He tries to raise his gun, but Stern’s other hand easily comes up and crushes the barrel, maintaining eye contact the whole time. 

Dale whimpers, mouth forming the pleading cries that he doesn’t have the air to voice.

If anything, Stern’s grip tightens and Dale desperately claws at his hands while his legs hang limply above the ground, eyes shut tight like he’s preparing for a blow.

Another gunshot ripples through the trees, but this time when Barclay turns to its source, it’s Mama aiming high up in the other direction. “Hey! Over here! C’mon! Come get me!”

Grunting, Stern throws Dale to the side like a ragdoll. As he lands, Dale quickly scrambles backward, shaking, breath heavy, and eyes wide. As Stern and Mama face off, he barely makes it to his feet and scurries after the others. Out of the corner of his eye, Barclay can see Aubrey about to run after him, but remains frozen just like everyone else. 

Could Barclay wrestle Stern to the ground? No. Probably not. Not without seriously hurting him. And fuck, he doesn’t even know where the necklace went. Could they wait for another day? But then Stern’s so strong now, he might hurt people. Shit shit shit. There’s nothing Barclay can do for him out here.

And then, just like that, an idea drips into Barclay’s head, quickly seeping down into his muscles and bubbling over into his blood. It’s risky and he can’t do it alone. But dammit if it’s not the only thing they got left.

“Mama,” he says as even and calm as possible, making sure to keep his eyes trained on Stern. “Find Duck and Ned. Get them to clear a path up Highland Street. The one the bridge is on. Got it?”

“Clear a- Barclay what are you talkin’ ‘bout?” Mama hisses back.

“Just, please. Trust me.”

She sighs.

“Alright. I trust you.”

That’s all Barclay needs to hear before he changes stance, feet braced in the snow and then rips off his bracelet in one clean move. As his form ripples through reality and draws to his full height, Barclay let’s out a roar from deep in his core that shakes the trees and pushes back against the wind. In Sylvain, it would automatically be understood as a threat, a _ challenge _ and Barclay can only pray to Sylvain wherever she may be that some instinct buried deep down in Stern understands it for what it is.

Barclay pauses as does Stern.

And then Stern roars right back and lunges.

Alright, so looks like he does know what it means. 

Immediately, Barclay turns around and starts sprinting through the trees, Stern hot on his heels. “Go! Now!” Barclay yells to the others. “Clear out Highland Street!” He can’t turn around to see if they listen. He hopes they do. If this plan is gonna work, that road has to have the least amount of people on it possible. If not . . .

Stern snarls and Barclay just feels the wind brush his fur as he goes to swipe at him.

Fuck, why does he have to be so fast?

As he runs, Barclay knows he needs to be heading north, back to the bridge near the Cryptonomica. Instead though, he zig zags through the trees going south-east. He’s gotta give the others time to get over to Highland Street and if that means prolonging being chased through the forest, so be it. 

His breath comes out in short bursts as he runs. He ducks and dodges beneath the branches, but by the sound of it, Stern is simply snapping them off as they get in his way leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. He can worry about that later. For now he has to keep on running. 

A sudden sharp pain hits Barclay’s back and he barely has time yell, “Fuck!” before the pain repeats. He spares a glance over his shoulder just in time to see Stern tear off another branch and hurl it at him, snarling all the while. 

Oh come on!

This time, Barclay just manages to dodge out of the way of the branch. He wants to get farther away, out of Stern’s reach. But if he gets too far, Stern might decide chasing him is more effort than it’s worth. And so Barclay plays the delicate dance of keeping just close enough to keep Stern interested and just far away that he doesn’t get a set of claws in his back. 

Another branch strikes him, this one with pinecones on it for extra pain, free of charge. 

Alright, it’s probably fine to start heading towards the bridge. His eyes glance ahead, trying to find the perfect place to turn. If he does this wrong, Stern will simply cut him off as he doubles back. Then, up ahead, Barclay spots a towering tree with a thick trunk. It’s not perfect, but it’s all he’s got. And so Barclay slows down, just a touch, so Stern is as close as he can be without grabbing him, and then the tree is coming closer and closer and closer with Barclay running at it dead on. Finally, at the last possible second before he collides with it, Barclay makes the sharpest turn possible, even using the trunk of the tree to push off from. 

By the loud  _ crack _ followed by a terrible roar, Stern ran straight into it. 

Barclay winces but keeps on running. They’re pretty sturdy in their sylph forms but still . . .

He can think of his apologies to Stern later, for now, he’s just got to keep running and leaping over logs and avoiding the thought of how many footprints the two of them are leaving in snow. 

Not the time. He can worry about that later. And how the Bigfoot Brigade saw Bigfoot in the flesh. Or how Dale got nearly throttled by Bigfoot . . . Yeah, that’s all gonna be tomorrow Barclay’s problem.

Stern bellows behind him, a sound which Barclay knows roughly means ‘I’m going to rip out your veins’.

He runs faster and reminds himself that today Barclay has bigger problems. 

Finally, after what seems like a lifetime of his feet turning numb in the snow, they finally see the bridge in the distance and thank Sylvain, there are no cars on it. But as Barclay glances across the river into town, he sees folks milling about on Highland Street in the distance, just opening up shop for the day.  _ Shit!  _ This is bad. This is really bad. Barclay needs that street empty or people are gonna get hurt. Did the others not make it? Did Barclay not give them enough time? Should he turn back around? Should he-

A loud roar suddenly cuts through his thoughts. But it’s not Stern.

It’s the roar of an engine. 

And then Barclay watches as a snowmobile bursts from the treeline ahead and zooms across the bridge with Ned driving while Duck and Aubrey hang on in the backseats. 

“Everybody off the street!” Aubrey yells. “Get inside!”

“Forest service emergency!” Duck adds on as the three of them “Can’t explain! Just get on inside!”

As he drives, Ned shouts. “Listen to him! He’s a badged professional!”

Despite everything, Barclay smiles.

It doesn’t last long though as the trickiest bit of this whole plan begins: He has to get Stern through town. Not all of town. Just up Highland Street. It stretches from the bridge and ends at the steep hill leading up to topside. But more importantly, just up that hill is Amnesty. So really, all Barclay has to do is make it down a single street as Bigfoot with another Bigfoot chasing him, climb up the hillside, and then get Stern in the hot springs.

Easy.

Or he sure fucking hopes it is.

In the tracks left by the snowmobile, Barclay turns onto the bridge and nearly careens off the side with how fast he’s running. But luckily he manages to keep his balance and continue going, Stern right behind him all the while. They cross the bridge and Barclay would breath a sigh of relief that at least everybody managed to get inside, however all his breath is currently being used up as he sucks in air to keep running, so that sigh of relief will have to wait. Then, as he spares a glance inside the shop windows to the faces staring out at them, Barclay and his breath are both knocked to the ground as Stern lunges at him and drags him down into the snow. Adrenaline courses through his body and he can hear Stern snarling above him just as Barclay manages to twist around in his grasp. Hands free, Barclay pushes Stern’s paws away from him. If those claws get in to him, fuck, is it gonna hurt. All the while, Stern is snarling and snapping at him. His heart twists. Fuck, everything is so wrong. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps drawing near meets Barclay’s ears and he barely has time to yell, “Get back!” before the sight of Beacon wrapping around Stern’s leg greets him.

“Real sorry ‘bout this Joe!” And then Duck pulls on Beacon’s hilt and tries to yank Stern back. It doesn’t completely get him off, doesn’t come close, but it does give Barclay the chance to bring his own leg up underneath Stern and kick him off. 

Stern yowls as he lands in the snow and Barclay gives a quick shout of “Thanks!” before he takes off again, Stern chasing him with renewed fury.

All too soon, or not soon enough, Barclay’s panicked brain can’t decide, the road ends and the hill, which seems far steeper than he remembers, begins. Here’s hoping they both don’t go careening down it. As he stumbles over the barrier keeping drivers from running straight off the road, Barclay gives one last deep belly roar to ensure that Stern keeps following him.

And follow him Stern certainly does. 

While Barclay spends extra time looking at the ground before him to ensure that he doesn’t step on an already crumbling section of hill, Stern’s brain is focused on one thing and one thing alone: Getting to Barclay. So as he chases after him, he doesn’t have to spend a single precious second worrying about toppling down the mountain, takes riskier moves than Barclay, doesn’t hold anything back. All of which means Stern is getting closer and closer and Barclay can’t do anything about it. 

Halfway up. He’s already halfway up. Just a little longer. Just a little more. He can do it. He has to. If-

A swipe of claws rakes down Barclay’s calf and the scream is ripping out of his throat before he can stop it. He can already feel the molten hot blood dripping down his leg, but he can’t- Fuck, he can’t stop. Just keep going. Rest later. Just. Keep. Going.

Stern growls and Barclay braces for the ripping across his skin he’s about to feel. But then, as Barclay hears Stern’s heavy footsteps come down on the hillside, he immediately hears the clattering of rocks too as the ground crumbles beneath him and Stern goes sliding down the hillside. Sparing a glance behind him, Barclay sees that Stern is now about fifty feet back and trying to regain his footing.

Alright then.

He doesn’t want to be pleased at this, but it should give him just enough time to get up the hill. So as he grits his teeth and tries to ignore the pulsating pain radiating from his leg, Barclay forces himself on and up the hill. And when the ground finally levels out, the road to Amnesty in front of him, Barclay holds back a sob of relief. Sparing a glance to the hill, he sees that Stern is making good time up it and so Barclay sets off down the road. 

And fuck, he knows it’s not the time, but by Sylvain this road is terrible. It seems like every single sharp rock in existence is making a point to stab him right in the arches. But seeing as Stern just cleared the hill, brown eyes filled not with the usual love that Barclay is used to but a hollow emptiness, he decides to put thoughts of their shitty road on the back burner. Even though his leg is sending every single signal possible to please stop, please rest, he can’t go on, Barclay does his best to ignore it. He’s so close. The Lodge coming into sight as he rounds a bend in the road. It all looks too calm, too peaceful for what is happening. Beams of beautiful hazy sunlight just shining through the glass dome on the roof. If he wasn’t running for both their lives, Barclay would take time to appreciate the view.

But instead, Barclay rounds the side of the Lodge, Stern quickly gaining on him. He makes it to the back. Runs over to the hot spring. Maybe he can wrestle Stern in? If he just gets a hold on him. 

_ And then the water comes up to greet him and Stern tackles him into the spring. _

He gasps.

Stern’s weight bears down on top of him.

Hot water tries to fill his mouth. 

Claws dig into his back.

Barclay struggles in his grasp.

Red seeps through the water.

His attempts grow weaker.

Black seeps through Barclay’s vision.

Stern grows stronger.

He . . . His breath . . . He can’t. He can’t hold it for much longer. The pain is too much. Just a little longer . . . Stern . . . He’s gotta . . . Gotta get him back.

And then, the blackness finally overtakes him and Barclay goes limp in the water. But before he does, he swears he hears a single word, muffled by the water and the pain.

_ “Barclay?” _

The forest goes quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the song "Belligerence Limit" from the amnesty soundtrack for being the perfect thing to listen to while writing the scene where Stern wakes up.


	19. At Night We See The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then, Stern wakes up.

The very first thing that gently nudges at Stern’s consciousness as he wakes is how warm the sheets are beneath him, practically cradling him in a soothing heat. The more he wakes, the more he notices. The birds outside greet him with a quaint and quiet melody joined by a faint ticking he can’t place. Somewhere, someone is cooking pancakes. Finally, and most oddly, Stern wakes feeling more well-rested than he has in years.

It’s only as his eyes flutter open that Stern realises that something is wrong.

He’s not wearing his watch.

Bolting upright, Stern takes in the sight of his sylph form before him in a bed that  _ certainly  _ isn’t his own based on the fact that he’s been comfortably lying down in it without his legs sticking off the end. He goes to rip the blankets off himself, but immediately stops. Lying on top of the regular Amnesty Lodge covers, is a blanket. The blanket gifted to him by the other Lodge patrons. And . . . And next to him in bed is the little plush owl Barclay won for him at the carnival . . .

A gasp rings out through the room as Stern’s memories come roaring back. 

_ Barclay! Oh god! The hot springs! Did he- _

Stern stumbles out of bed and staggers to the door. He has to find Barclay. He has to know what happened to him. How long has he been out? Before he can even attempt to get his massive hand to work the door, it swings open to reveal Mama standing in the doorway.

“Ah darn, didn’t want you wakin’ up alone. Was hoping you’d stay asleep long enough for me to grab ya a glass of water. How ya feelin’?”

And discomfort about being in his sylph form is thrown aside in favor of bafflement. She’s so calm? Why is she so calm? “Where’s Barclay?” He manages out but with how dry his throat is, it comes out as far more like a growl than Stern is comfortable with. The mere action dragging back more and more memories. “Is he alright? I need to-”

“Whoa, hold your horses there,” Mama goes to hand him the glass of water but then glances at his hands. “Why don’tcha get your disguise charm on and drink some of this, alright?”

“My- My disguise charm?”

Mama nods over to the bedside table and it’s only then that Stern sees his watch lying next to the lamp. He makes his way over to it, still unsteady on his feet, and gingerly picks it up. It’s . . .

It’s ticking.

“Hope ya don’t mind,” Mama softly calls from the doorway. “But I took the liberty of fixin’ it up for you.”

“I- Thank you.” 

“No problem Joseph.”

And then he slips the watch on his wrist and the world spins as Stern’s perspective shifts and he’s once again in his human form. 

He stares down at his hands.

Curls and uncurls his fingers.

Turns them over as he stares.

He’s alive . . .

“Want to go see Barclay?”

Stern stops his train of thought as he turns around back to Mama. “Yes. Please. Is he okay? I remember- God, I remember-”

“Hey? Joseph? He’s fine.”

Stern swallows down all the words he was about to say. “Really?”

“Mmhhm, been resting in bed. He’s just down the hall.”

Stumbling over towards the door, Stern suddenly finds himself with his arm slung around Mama’s shoulder as she supports him. “You’re gonna be a bit out of it for a while, your body’s still adjusting. Let me help, alright?”

“Alright.”

With that, the two of them leave the room and start the slow process of walking down the hall. “Hope ya know that as soon as the others hear you’re awake, they’re gonna try and swarm ya. I can hold ‘em off for a bit, but not forever. Jake’s been asking every hour if you were up and about and I can’t even begin to count the number of cups of tea that they brewed for ya.”

Stern tries not to think too hard about these three sentences because otherwise he’s going to cry in the middle of the hallway.

Finally, they make it to Barclay’s room and Stern freezes. He can hear Dani talking inside. “Pumpkin pie is obviously the superior pie,” Dani says but he doesn’t hear what she says next as he takes a step back.

“What’re you waitin’ for?” Mama asks, looking up at him with furrowed brows. 

Stern takes in a shaky breath. “Does he . . . Does he even want to see me?”

“What?”

“I nearly killed him,” he whispers as he stares at the door. “I put you all in danger. I was seen. He’s hurt because of _ me.” _

“Now, you listen here Joseph and you listen well. None of that is your fault and I’ll say it again so you remember.  _ None of that is your fault. _ Not a single soul in this Lodge blames you for any of that, and you shouldn’t either. And I know it’s gonna take time to accept that, but it’s the truth.”

Stern doesn’t know what to say so he just stands there.

“And to answer your first question, Barclay wants to see ya. Been askin’ ‘bout you non-stop. Pretty sure he’s planning an escape to come see ya if I’m bein’ honest.”

Despite himself, Stern lets out a weak chuckle. “Well, I would hate to keep him waiting then.”

So, still leaning on Mama, Stern opens up the door and once his eyes adjust to the morning light streaming through the window, his breath all but stops. Barclay is propped upright in bed, bandages wrapped around his arms and torso, a bruise blooming across his temple and a cut along the bridge of his nose. Sat on the bedside table is the bear Stern won him at the carnival. Dani sits on a chair next to him but whatever she was saying is cut off as both she and Barclay turn towards the door. 

The world doesn’t freeze, just them, just that moment as he and Barclay lock eyes.

And Stern doesn’t even get through the second syllable of a quiet “Hello” before Barclay is attempting to untangle himself from the covers and cross the room to him. “Oh, no no no,” Stern leaves Mama and stumbles over to the bed, just landing on its side as Barclay surges forward and brings him into a hug, head buried in his shoulder.

“You’re okay.”

“I was so worried.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I was so scared.”

And it doesn’t matter who says what, the words blurring and building and becoming something new until they’re inseparable. 

Finally though, they pull back but don’t stop touching each other. Mama and Dani are gone now, yet he didn’t even hear them leave. Barclay’s hands remain on Stern’s back, rubbing up and down the fabric while Stern keeps his hand on Barclay’s neck, comforted by steadiness of his pulse. 

“So . . .” Barclay starts, a wobbly smile on his face. “Bigfoot, huh?”

Stern lets out a short breathy laugh. “Indeed. Though you’re one to talk.”

“I know, I know,” Barclay says with a laugh of his own. “I still can’t- I don’t know. Can’t believe how it all turned out. There were so many times where I thought ‘well this it’ but . . . But here we are. Everything worked out in the end, huh?”

Stern’s fingers pause on Barclay’s neck. “But . . . Did it? You and I were both seen by the townsfolk. I attacked those Bigfoot hunters. Dale still knows that I’m not really an FBI agent. How are we possibly going to handle any of this?”

“Hey, don’t worry,” one of Barclay’s hands leaves his back and comes around to hold Stern’s. “We’ve actually got it all covered.”

“Truly?”

“Yep. With the costume Ned used to- well to convince you we faked that video, which again, I’m so sorry about-”

“Barclay, I understand. You wanted to protect the Lodge, it’s completely understandable. Now please, continue.”

He nods. “So anyways, using that suit with the disguise charm, Ned convinced folks that everything was just a publicity stunt for Saturday Night Dead. Actually brought a bit of business down to the Cryptonomica of people wanting to see the suit.”

“Oh ah, good for him. But what of the Bigfoot Hunters? Surely they weren’t fooled by that.”

“You say that, but you should’ve heard Buck mumbling to himself that he knew it was fake the whole time as he packed up and headed outta of here.”

“And the podcasters? If my memory is correct, they did get video of the whole encounter.”

“Tammy and Gordan? Oh well uh, the strangest thing happened. Camera they were using to film with? Well Aubrey went over to check on them and she said all their footage got deleted. Electrical mishap. Shame.”

Stern groans, but a smile still plays on his lips. “Oh, I almost feel bad.”

“Eh,” Barclay shrugs. “They’ve still got all the episodes they recorded for their podcast and even if they talk about what happened, can’t imagine many folks will believe them without the footage. ‘Sides, not like they could’ve shown a video over an audio medium anyways.”

“And Dale?”

A mischievous smile plays on Barclay’s face. “Well here’s the thing. Know how Dale’s always calling himself the Bigfoot Tracking King of Willow Creek? Well, Willow Creek is right in Six Rivers National Park, so Duck made a few phone calls over to the rangers there. Duck bonded real quick with them, talking about the people messing up the forests trying to find Bigfoot. Turns out, Dale’s made quite a name for himself up there. Destroying park property. Damaging the trees. Even shot a bald eagle. All together, he’d be looking at a pretty hefty fine plus jail time for all that.”

Stern jaw slowly drops as Barclay speaks.

“And well, after learning all this, Mama paid Dale a visit. Had a good long talk with him. Let’s just say, Dale won’t be telling anybody about you not being an FBI agent and in fact, he’s already packed up and left town. Won’t be coming back either.”

Stern takes a deep breath. And another. So . . . So it really is okay? Everything actually turned out okay? There’s no more Bigfoot hunters to worry about. He doesn’t have to hide the fact that he’s Bigfoot from the Lodge. Barclay is okay. Ten years of searching. Ten years of loneliness. Ten years of fear. Ten years of his crystal slowly running out of energy. Ten years of thinking he’d never make it past ten years.

He suddenly finds himself pulled in for another hug as Braclay runs a soothing hand down his back. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay now.” He murmurs in a never ending mantra. 

It takes Stern a moment to register that it’s his own body that’s shaking, that the muffled sobs are his. Years of built up tension drain away with each breath that racks his chest. 

Part of it’s relief.

Part of it’s the memories. Of being out in that forest. Of not being himself. The absolute terror that gripped him when he thought that he was going to die all coming out in shuddering gasps. 

He can’t stop. Just tries to keep gulping in breaths as Barclay says soothingly, “You found us. You did it. You won’t be alone anymore. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

Stern believes him. He truly does. But still, he cries and still Barclay holds him until eventually, he slides in bed next to Barclay, curled close to one another as if both are worried the other man will disappear. 

“I love you,” Barclay whispers to him.

Stern forces down a sniffle. “I love you too.”

And for the rest of the day, they simply stayed like that. 

Together and warm and loved.

* * *

Growing up, there were three principles which guided every single action of Joseph Stern’s life.

**_One: He is a human being. Do nothing to make anyone think otherwise._ **

“So while myself and my parents had night vision, they never spoke on whether this was standard for all sylphs? So do you all have it too?” Stern asks as he sinks into the lobby couches and settles against Barclay’s side, handing him a mug of cider as Stern balances his own in his other hand. 

The doors are all locked. The curtains all drawn. The disguise charms all off.

Stern never thought he’d feel comfortable enough to be in his sylph form around others, and yet here he is. It’s been just under a month since Stern’s been back and he and Barclay have both spent that time healing in different ways.

“Most do, yeah,” Dani says as she sits on the hearth. “With nights lasting literal decades on Sylvain, having the ability to see in the dark is pretty important.

“Sun should be rising soon, right?”

Barclay nods at Jake, who is currently an anthropomorphic seal in a neon windbreaker, a concept that first sent Stern into a double take but is now his new normal. “Should be yeah. This year probably. Then it’s a couple of decades of sun for everyone.” Barclay smiles. “Bet that sunrise will be beautiful.”

“I’ll be the first to admit that the Earth sunrises scared the daylight out of me, no pun intended, when I first came to Earth,” Moira says. Marcella, Harlan, Nexiad and a few others chime in with agreement before breaking back into their own conversations, creating a pleasant murmur throughout the room that he could sink into.

Taking a sip of hot cider, Stern takes a moment to think about the concept of having never seen a sunrise. “I can’t imagine how odd that must have been. Both seeing the sun for the first time and living without it.”

Stern still hasn’t gone to Sylvain. Doesn't know if he ever will. Technically, he hasn’t been banished, but if he goes, he can only go once. As soon as he returns to Earth, he’ll officially be banished. The thought doesn’t bother him though. He’s got everything he needs right here on Earth. Aubrey, Duck and Ned even travelled there and managed to get him a small implant that is tuned to his biology which allows him to transition his sylph form. And that ability to stand in front of the mirror with his watch on or off and see himself staring back, a smile on his face, it means so much to him he could barely put it into words when it was given to him. 

**Two: Cryptids do not exist. Any comment to the contrary must be countered and mocked.**

“I have another question actually,” Stern starts but pauses as Duck comes in with trays of snacks and sets them down on every and any available surface. All the lodge residents gathered around immediately dig in. “The Loch Ness Monster, is she also a sylph?”

“Everybody always asks about Nessie. How would she even get through the gate?” Barclay says with a fond eye roll and then a kiss to Stern’s furry cheek.

“Hey it’s a valid question!” Aubrey counters, throwing a piece of popcorn straight at him. 

Barclay just laughs. 

“But to answer your question, we don’t really know? Never been over in Scotland. Hey, Mama? You’ve been overseas, you ever go to Loch Ness?”

“Nah!” She calls back. “But I think she’s real!”

Ned takes the opportunity to quickly duck out of his other conversation to instead lean forward in his chair and flash one of his businessman smiles. “Well, of course she’s real! In fact, I've seen the magnificent creature with my own two eyes!”

“You really trying to scam real cryptids?” Duck raises an eyebrow, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “You’ll stoop that low? For shame.”

The two of them devolve into their own conversation, but Dani’s voice draws him away from it.

“But yeah, Loch Ness Monster?” She shrugs. “Who knows. But Mothman, he’s real. And I mean, my babysitter growing up was what humans would call the jersey devil. So some of them are sylphs, but not everything.”

“Huh. Good to know.”

Stern thinks to all the sightings he tracked down over the years. The reports of aliens or werewolves or goatmen, how many of those were real? Were they actually sylphs? There must be other communities out there like this, surviving off Earth’s energy. Together and happy like he is here.

“Hey,” Barclay starts, his arm resting on the back of Stern’s shoulder, keeping him close. “Wanna see something?” He then tilts his head back so he’s staring straight up at the glass dome above them, and the night sky above that. “Alright, so you see that bright yellow star, the right head of gemini?”

“Your confidence in my constellation knowledge is highly misplaced.”

This earns him a small laugh. “Look, see the Big Dipper? See the bottom right star of the cup? Follow that up and to the right.”

“Oh, that one?” Stern says pointing through the glass, the remnants of snow still on the panes, which really isn’t the ideal way to do this truth be told.

“Yeah you got it! The star right next to that one? That’s Sylvain’s sun.”

Stern blinks. “Really?”

“Yep.”

Huh . . . And suddenly, it’s like Stern is right back at the Grand Canyon. Feeling so small, but not in a bad way. 

He hopes they enjoy their sunrise.

Then, as Stern tilts his head back down, he sees that the rest of the sylphs are also gazing above at their sun.

“You know, it’s kinda weird to think about but uh,” Barclay pauses, takes a sip from his mug. “Wouldn’t be able to see the sun if we were still on Sylvain, would we?”

A small smile tugs on Dani’s face. “No, guess we wouldn’t.”

**Three: Never let anybody close enough to realise that one and two are lies.**

Looking out across the room, at his friends, his family, the man he loves, Stern doesn’t even try to hide his smile. When he used to imagine finding another sylph, he thought it would be a relationship born of pure necessity. They would have a crystal. Stern needed a crystal. Their interactions would be nothing more than Stern borrowing the crystal, returning it, then repeating the cycle.

Never did he imagine this. 

Never did he even dare to dream of anything like this.

But now that it's here? Stern will be damned before he lets it go.

Clearing his throat, Stern grabs the attention of others. And now, attention doesn’t bring death, it brings warmth in the smiles and faces of those he cares most deeply about. “I just wanted to say to you all,” and then he pauses, trying to remember the syllables and sounds that he’s been working on. Breathe. Just breathe. He didn’t practice this for nothing. “ _ You all mean a great deal to me and I cannot express how thankful I am to have found Amnesty Lodge.” _

Immediately, the room erupts.

“Holy shit man, when did you learn to speak sylph?”

“That was great!”

“You even got the trill right, that takes work!”

Stern tries not to preen, but as soon as he glances to his right to see Barclay staring at him, gaze soft and smile softer, well it’s really a losing battle at that point. “That was amazing, Joe. You’re a natural.”

“I have Moira’s tutelage to thank and to be quite honest, that is one of only two phrases I can speak in sylph at the moment. I still have a long way to go.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it all in no time.”

“Ooh, here! We can teach you some now!” Jake exclaims before launching into a list of words, the others jumping in every now and again to either add to the list, correct Stern’s pronunciation, or to say that Stern should probably learn the fundamentals before he learns curse words.

And as the night goes on, some heading to bed, others taking over the kitchen to bake cookies, eventually, through the glass dome, the first rays of light begin to break through. Next to him, Barclay yawns and leans on his shoulder.

“Tired?”

“What? Me? Nev-” Another yawn. “Never.”

“We should head to bed.”

“Ehh, it’s fine. I’m not working tomorrow. Or I guess today really. Sebastian’s manning the kitchen. Or maybe Dani? Can’t remember.”

Stern smiles and gently runs his fingers through Barclay’s fur. “So what I’m gathering is that you and I can spend the entire day napping together?”

“Oh,  _ absolutely _ .”

Then for a moment, the two of them simply sit there, leaning against one another and not saying a word. Eventually though, Stern does open the door out of the quiet. “There was one other phrase I learned to speak in sylph,” he says softly.

“Oh?”

“Mhhmm,” he takes a breath. “ _ I love you.” _

And Barclay doesn’t hesitate even a second before saying right back at him in sylph, “ _ I love you too. _ ”

Stern doesn’t remember if he’s ever been this happy before and when he speaks next, it's through a wide grin he can barely contain. “And my thought is, if my pronunciation on that particular phrase is off, well I’ll have many chances to practice it, won’t I?”

“And you’ll hear it a lot too, really help you get those syllables down.”

Stern lets out a small laugh. “We make a pretty sappy pair, hmm?”

“Our first kiss was on top of a ferris wheel, what do you expect?” Barclay counters, a crooked smile that Stern loves on his face. “And uh, on the subject of sappy, well I just wanted to say that I’m just- I’m thankful everyday that you found me.”

“I’m thankful you found me too.”

Then as Stern leans forward to kiss Barclay, he thinks back to those three principles, how the thought of breaking them was once blasphemy. But now, tasting the faint hint of apple cider on Barclay’s lips, their disguise charms off and staying that way, Stern realises that without breaking each and every one of those principles, he wouldn’t be here now. And you know what, he doesn’t think his parents would mind one bit.

He certainly doesn’t.

The kiss ends, but the feeling of Barclay’s lips on his doesn’t and Stern can’t help but smile, thinking about the rest of his life spread before him. Not searching or running or hiding, but here, at the Lodge with Barclay.

Two Bigfoots in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this! Writing this over the past couple of months has been amazing and I'm so happy to get to share it now! I nearly didn't write this because all I had was "Stern is Bigfoot" as a plot and that was it. But I'm so glad I figured it out because this is one of my favorite things I've written. And thank you to Brian David Gilbert's song "See The Day" as I listened to it on repeat for the second half of the chapter.
> 
> Thank you again to my beta reader! Her tumblr is therealannabellee and her ao3 is TheRealAnnabelLee  
> And also, please check out the amazing art that goes along with the fic by talln.t on instagram!: https://www.instagram.com/p/B8JsydPHAPP/

**Author's Note:**

> I made a joke once about what if Stern was also a Bigfoot the whole time and that one joke wouldn't let me go and so now we have this 70,000 word fic. Whoops.
> 
> And thank you so much to my beta reader! Her tumblr is therealannabellee and her ao3 is TheRealAnnabelLee


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